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HARRY  LORREQUER 


BY 

-£> 

foj^z 

CHARLES  LEVER, 

AUTHOR  OF  “CHARLES  O’MALLEY.” 


41  We  talked  of  pipe-clay — regulation  caps — 

Long  twenty-fours — short  culverins  and  mortars — 
Condemned  the  4 Horse  Guards’  for  a set  of  raps, 

And  cursed  our  fate  at  being  in  such  quarters. 

Some  smoked,  some  sighed,  and  some  were  heard  to  snore, 
Some  wished  themselves  five  fathoms  ’neath  the  Solway  \ 
And  some  did  pray — who  never  prayed  before — 

That  they  might  get  the  4 route  ’ for  Cork  or  Galway.’’ 


CHICAGO  AND  NEW  YORK: 

BELFORD,  CLARKE  & COMPANY, 

Publishers. 


7 A b 33 


L Si  cov, 

■ 1 

: 

Co 

&U 

PREFACE. 


That  some  thirty  years  after  the  sketches  which  form  this  vol 
ume  were  written  I should  be  called  on  to  revise  and  re-edit 
them  is  strange  enough  to  me  ; well  remembering,  as  I do,  with 
what  little  hope  of  permanence  they  were  penned,  how  lightly 
they  were  undertaken,  and  how  carelessly  thrown  together. 
But  there  is  something  still  stranger  in  the  retrospect,  and  that 
is,  that  these  same  papers — for  originally  they  were  contributed 
as  articles  to  the  Dublin  University  Magazine — should  mainly 
have  directed  the  course  of  my  future  life,  and  decided  my  entire 
career. 

I may  quote  from  a former  preface  that  I was  living  in  a very 
secluded  spot  when  I formed  the  idea  of  jotting  down  these 
stories,  many  of  them  heard  in  boyhood,  others  constructed  out 
of  real  incidents  that  had  occurred  to  my  friends  in  travel,  and 
some  again — as  the  adventures  of  Trevanion  and  the  French 
duellist  for  instance — actual  facts,  well  known  to  many  who  had 
formed  part  of  the  army  of  occupation  in  France. 

To  give  what  consistency  I might  to  a mass  of  incongruous 
adventure,  to  such  a variety  of  strange  situations  befalling  one 
individual,  I was  obliged  to  imagine  a character,  which  probably 
my  experiences — and  they  were  not  very  mature  at  the  time — 
assured  me  as  being  perfectly  possible ; one  of  a strong  will  and 
a certain  energy,  rarely  persistent  in  purpose  and  perpetually 
the  sport  of  accident,  with  a hearty  enjoyment  of  the  pleasure 
of  the  hour,  and  a very  reckless  indifference  as  to  the  price  to 
be  paid  for  it.  If  I looked  out  on  my  acquaintances,  I believed 
I saw  many  of  the  traits  I was  bent  on  depicting,  and  for  others 
I am  half  afraid  I had  only  to  take  a peep  into  myself.  If  it  is 
an  error,  then,  to  believe  that  in  these  Confessions  I have  ever 
recorded  any  incidents  fef  my  own  life,  there  is  no  mistake  in 
supposing  that — without  being  in  the  least  aware  of  it — in 
sketching  Harry  Lorrequer,  I was  in  a great  measure  depicting 
myself,  and  becoming,  allegorically,  an  autobiographist. 

Here  is  a confession  which,  if  thirty  odd  years  had  not  rolled 
over,  I might  be  indisposed  to  make,  but  time  has  enabled  me  to 
look  back  on  my  work,  and  even  on  myself  as  I wrote  it,  with  a 

703298 


iv 


PREFACE. 


certain  degree  of  impartiality ; and  to  feel,  as  regards  both,  as 
the  great  Paley  said  a man  feels  after  he  has  finished  his  din- 
ner : “ That  he  might  have  done  better.” 

It  is  perfectly  unnecessary  that  I should  say  when  and  where 
I wrote  these  sketches ; no  thought  of  future  authorship  of  any 
kind  occurred  to  me,  far  less  did  I dream  of  abandoning  my  pro- 
fession as  a physician  for  the  precarious  livelihood  of  the  pen. 
Indeed,  their  success,  such  as  it  was,  only  became  known  to  me 
after  I had  left  Ireland  and  gone  to  live  abroad,  and  it  was 
there — at  Brussels — my  publishers  wrote  to  me  to  request  a 
continuance  of  my  Confessions,  with  the  assurance  they  had 
found  favor  with  the  world,  and  flattering  notice  from  the 
Press.  Though  I have  been  what  the  sarcastic  French  moralist 
called  “blessed  with  a bad  memory”  all  my  life,  I can  still  re- 
call the  delight — I cannot  call  it  less — with  which  I heard  my 
attempt  at  authorship  was  successful.  I did  not  awake,  indeed, 
“ to  find  myself  famous,”  but  I well  remember  the  thrill  of  triumph- 
ant joy  with  which  I read  the  letter  that  said  “Go  on,”  and 
the  entrancing  ecstasy  I felt  at  the  bare  possibility  of  my  one 
day  becoming  known  as  a writer.  I have  had,  since  then,  some 
moments  in  which  a partial  success  has  made  me  very  happy 
and  very  grateful,  but  I do  not  believe  that  all  these  put  together, 
or  indeed  any  possible  favor  the  world  might  mete  to  me, 
would  impart  a tithe  of  the  enjoyment  I felt  on  hearing  that 
Harry  Lorrequer  had  been  liked  by  the  public,  and  that  they 
had  asked  for  more  of  him. 

If  this  sort  of  thing  amuses  them,  thought  I,  I can  go  on  for- 
ever ; and  believing  this  to  be  true,  I launched  forth  with  all 
that  prodigal  waste  of  material  which,  if  it  forms  one  of  the  reas- 
ons of  the  success,  is,  strictly  speaking,  one  among  the  many  de- 
merits of  this  story.  That  I neither  husbanded  my  resources, 
nor  imagined  that  they  ever  could  fail  me,  were  not  my  only 
mistakes ; and  I am  tempted  to  show  how  little  I understood 
of  the  responsibilities  of  authorship  by  repeating  what  I have 
told  elsewhere,  an  incident  of  the  last  number  of  Plarry 
Lorrequer.  The  MSS.  which  contained  the  conclusion  of  the 
story  had  been  sent  through  the  Foreign  Office  bag  from  Brus- 
sels, and  possibly  had  been  mistaken  for  a dispatch.  At  all 
events,  like  King  Theodore’s  letter,  it  had  been  thrown  to  one 
side  and  forgotten.  In  this  strait  my  publishers  wrote  to  me  in 
a strain  that  the  trade  alone  knows  how  to  employ  towards  an 
unknown  author. 

Stung  by  the  reproaches,  and  they  were  not  mild,  of  my  cor- 
respondent, I wrote  back,  enclosing  another  conclusion,  and  tell- 
ing him  to  print  either  or  both — as  he  pleased.  Years  after,  I 


PREFACE . 


v 


saw  the  first  sent  MSS.,  which  came  to  hand  at  last,  bound  in 
my  publishers’  library,  and  lettered  “ Another  ending  to  H.L.” 

When  the  great  master  of  fiction  condescended  to  inform  the 
world  on  what  small  fragments  of  tradition  or  local  anecdote 
the  Waverley  Novels  were  founded,  he  best  exalted  the  marvel- 
lous skill  of  his  own  handiwork  in  showing  how  genius  could 
develop  the  veriest  incident  of  a life  into  a story  of  surpassing 
power  and  interest.  I have  no  such  secrets  to  reveal,  nor  have 
I the  faintest  pretension  to  suppose  the  public  would  care  to 
hear  about  the  sources  from  which  I drew  either  my  characters 
or  my  incidents.  I have  seen,  however,  such  reference  to  sup- 
posed portraiture  of  individuals  in  this  story,  that  I am  forced 
to  declare  that  there  is  but  one  character  in  the  book  of  which 
the  original  had  any  existence,  and  to  which  I contributed  noth- 
ing of  exaggeration.  This  is  Father  Malachi  Brennan.  The 
pleasant  priest  was  alive  when  I wrote  the  tale,  and  saw  him- 
self in  print,  and — worse  still — in  picture,  not,  I believe,  with- 
out a certain  mock  indignation,  for  he  was  too  racy  a humorist, 
and  too  genuine  a lover  of  fun,  to  be  really  angry  at  this  carica- 
ture of  him. 

The  amusing  author  of  “ The  Wild  Sports  of  the  West  ” — 
Hamilton  Maxwell — was  my  neighbor  in  the  little  watering-place 
where  I was  living,  and  our  intimacy  was  not  the  less  close  from 
the  graver  character  of  the  society  around  us.  We  often  ex- 
changed our  experiences  of  Irish  character  and  life,  and  in 
our  gossipings  stories  were  told,  added  to,  and  amplified  in  such 
a way  between  us  that  I believe  neither  of  us  could  have  pro- 
nounced at  last  who  gave  the  initiative  of  an  incident,  or  on 
which  side  lay  the  authorship  of  any  particular  event. 

It  would  have  been  well  had  our  intercourse  stopped  with  these 
confidences,  but  unfortunately  it  did  not.  We  often  indulged  in 
little  practical  jokes  on  our  more  well-conducted  neighbors, 
and  I remember  that  the  old  soldier  from  whom  I drew  some 
of  the  features  I have  given  to  Colonel  Kamworth,  was  especially 
the  mark  of  these  harmless  pleasantries.  Our  Colonel  was  an 
excellent  fellow,  kind-hearted  and  hospitable,  but  so  infatuated 
with  a propensity  to  meddle  with  every  one,  and  to  be  a partner 
to  the  joys,  the  afflictions,  the  failures,  or  the  successes  of  all 
around  him,  that  with  the  best  possible  intentions  and  the  most 
sincere  desire  to  be  useful  to  his  neighbors,  he  became  the 
cause  of  daily  misconceptions  and  mistakes,  sowed  discord 
where  he  meant  unity,  and,  in  fact,  originated  more  trouble  and 
more  distrust  than  the  most  malevolent  mischief-maker  of  the 
whole  country  side. 

I am  forced  to  own  that  the  small  persecutions  with  which  my 


vl 


PREFACE . 


friend  Maxwell  and  myself  followed  the  worthy  Colonel,  the 
wrong  intelligence  with  which  we  supplied  him,  particularly  as 
regarded  the  rank  and  station  of  the  various  visitors  who  came 
down  during  the  bathing  season ; the  false  scents  on  which  we 
sent  him,  and  the  absurd  enterprises  on  which  we  embarked 
him,  even  to  the  extent  of  a mock  address  which  induced  him 
to  stand  for  the  “ borough  ” — the  address  to  the  constituency  be- 
ing our  joint  production — all  these  follies,  I say,  more  or  less 
disposed  me,  I feel  sure,  to  that  incessant  flow  of  absurd  inci- 
dent which  runs  through  this  volume,  and  which,  after  all,  has 
really  little  other  than  the  reflex  of  our  daily  plottings  and  con- 
triyings. 

I believe  my  old  friend  the  Colonel  is  still  living ; if  he  be, 
and  if  he  should  read  these  lines,  let  him  also  read  that  I have 
other  memories  of  him  than  those  of  mere  jest  and  pleasantry — 
memories  of  his  cordial  hospitality  and  genial  good  nature — 
and  that  there  are  few  things  I would  like  better  than  to  meet 
and  talk  with  him  over  bygones,  knowing  no  one  more  likely 
to  relish  a pleasant  reminiscence  than  himself,  nor  more  certain 
to  forgive  a long-past  liberty  taken  with  him. 

If  there  are  many  faults  and  blunders  in  this  tale  which  I 
would  willingly  correct,  if  there  be  much  that  I would  curtail  or 
cut  out  altogether,  and  if  there  be  also  occasionally  incidents 
of  which  I could  improve  the  telling,  I am  held  back  from  any 
attempts  of  this  kind  by  the  thought  that  it  was  by  these 
sketches,  such  as  they  are,  I first  won  that  hearing  from  the  pub- 
lic which  for  more  than  thirty  years  has  never  deserted  me,  and 
that  the  favor  which  has  given  the  chief  pride  and  interest  to 
my  life  dates  from  the  day  I was  known  as  Harry  Lorrequer. 
Having  given  up  the  profession  for  which,  I believe,  I had 
some  aptitude,  to  follow  the  precarious  life  of  a writer,  I sup- 
pose I am  only  admitting  what  many  others  under  like  circum- 
stances might  declare,  that  I have  had  my  moments,  and  more 
than  mere  moments,  of  doubt  and  misgiving  that  I made  the 
wiser  choice,  and  bating  the  intense  pleasure  an  occasional 
success  has  afforded,  I have  been  led  to  think  that  the  career  I 
had  abandoned  would  have  been  more  rewarding,  more  safe 
from  reverses,  and  less  exposed  to  those  variations  of  public 
taste  which  are  the  terrors  of  all  who  live  on  the  world’s 
favor. 

Strangely  enough,  it  is  my  old  doctorial  instinct  which  should 
suggest  the  consolation  to  this  passing  regret.  The  life  of  the 
physician  has  nothing  so  thoroughly  rewarding,  nothing  so  cheer- 
ing, so  full  of  hearty  encouragement,  as  in  the  occasional  friend- 
ships to  which  it  opens  the  way.  The  doctor  attains  to  a de- 


PREFACE, 


vii 


gree  of  intimacy  and  stands  on  a footing  of  confidence  so  totally 
exceptional,  that  if  personal  qualities  lend  aid  to  the  position, 
his  intercourse  becomes  friendship.  Whether,  therefore,  my  old 
career  gave  me  any  assistance  in  new  roads,  whether  it  im- 
parted to  me  any  habits  of  investigation  as  applicable  to  the  full 
in  morals  as  to  matter,  it  certainly  imparted  to  me  the  happy 
accident  of  standing  on  good  terms  with — I was  going  to  say — 
my  patient,  and  perhaps  no  better  word  could  be  found  for  him 
who  has  heard  me  so  long,  trusted  me  so  much,  given  me  so 
large  a share  of  his  favor,  and  come  to  look  on  me  with  such 
friendliness.  It  would  be  the  worst  of  ingratitude  in  me  if  I did 
not  owe  to  my  books  not  only  the  pleasant  intimacies  of  my  life, 
but  some  of  my  closest  friendships.  A chance  expression,  a 
fairly  shadowed  thought,  a mere  chord  struck  at  random  by  a pass- 
ing hand,  as  it  were,  has  now  and  then  placed  me,  as  mesmerists 
call  it,  “ en  rapport  ” with  some  one  who  may  have  thought  long 
and  deeply  on  what  I had  but  skimmed  over ; and  straightway 
there  was  a bond  between  us. 

No  small  satisfaction  has  it  been  to  me  occasionally  to  hear 
that  out  of  the  over  abundance  of  my  buoyancy  and  lightheart- 
edness— and  I had  a great  deal  of  both  long  ago — I have  been 
able  to  share  with  my  neighbor  and  given  him  part  of  my  sun- 
shine, and  only  felt  the  warmer  myself.  A great  writer — one  of 
the  most  eloquent  historians  who  ever  illustrated  the  military 
achievements  of  his  country — once  told  me  that,  as  he  lay  sick 
and  care-worn  after  a fever,  it  was  in  my  reckless  stories  of 
soldier  life  he  found  the  cheeriest  moments' of  his  solitude  ; and 
now  let  me  hasten  to  say  that  I tell  this  in  no  spirit  of  boastful- 
ness, but  with  the  heartfelt  gratitude  of  one  who  gained  more 
by  hearing  that  confession  than  Harry  Lorrequer  ever  acquired 
by  all  his  own. 

One  word  now  as  regards  the  task  I am  immediately  engaged 
in,  and  I have  done. 

My  publishers  propose  to  bring  out  in  this  edition  a carefully 
revised  version  of  all  my  books  in  the  order  in  which  they  were 
written ; each  story  to  be  accompanied  by  some  brief  notice  ex- 
plaining the  circumstances  under  which  it  was  written,  and  to 
what  extent  fact  or  fiction  had  their  share  in  the  construction. 

If  such  notices  may  occasionally  be  but  leaves  of  an  autobi- 
ography, I must  ask  my  reader  to  pardon  me,  and  to  believe  that 
I shall  not  impose  my  egotism  upon  him  when  it  be  possible  to 
avoid  it,  while  at  the  same  time  he  shall  know  all  that  I myself 
know  of  the  history  of  these  volumes. 

If  to  go  over  again  the  pages  I wrote  so  many  years  ago  is  in 
a measure  to  revisit  in  age  the  loved  scenes  of  boyhood,  and  to 


viii 


PREFACE. 


ponder  over  passages  the  very  spirit  of  whose  dictation  is  dead 
and  gone — if  all  this  has  its  sadness,  I am  cheered  by  remem- 
bering that  I am  still  addressing  many  old  and  dear  friends, 
and  have  also  for  my  audience  the  sons  and  grandsons,  and,  what 
I like  better,  the  daughters  and  granddaughters,  of  those  who 
once  listened  to  Harry  Lorrequer. 


Trieste,  1872. 


CHARLES  LEVER. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PAGE 

Arrival  in  Cork— Civic  Festivities — Private  Theatricals i 

CHAPTER  II. 

Detachment  Duty — The  “ Burton  Arms  ” — Callonby 15 

CHAPTER  III. 

Life  at  Callonby — Love-Making — Miss  O’Dowd’s  Adventure 25 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Botanical  Studies — The  Natural  System  Preferable  to  the  Linnaean 33 

CHAPTER  V. 

Puzzled — Explanation  Makes  Bad  Worse — A Duel 36 

CHAPTER  VI. 

The  Priest’s  Supper — Father  Malachi  and  the  Coadjutor — Major  Jones 

and  the  Abbe 47 

CHAPTER  VII. 

The  Lady’s  Letter — Peter  and  his  Acquaintances — Too  Late 64 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Congratulations — Sick  Leave— How  to  Pass  the  Board 73 

CHAPTER  IX. 

The  Road — Travelling  Acquaintances — A Packet  Adventure 78 

CHAPTER  X. 

Upset — Mind — And  Body 83 


CONTENTS. 


X 

CHAPTER  XI. 

PAGE 

Cheltenham — Matrimonial  Adventure — Showing  how  to  Make  Love  for 

a Friend 89 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Dublin — Tom  O’Flaherty — A Reminiscence  of  the  Peninsula 104 

CPIAPTER  XIII. 

Dublin — The  Boarding-House — Select  Society 115 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

The  Cha?* 126 

CHAPTER  XV. 

Mems.  of  the  North  Cork 138 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

Theatricals 145 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

The  Wager '. 153 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

The  Elopement 165 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

Detachment  Duty — An  Assize  Town 169 

CHAPTER  XX. 

The  Assize  Town 179 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

A Day  in  Dublin 186 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

A Night  at  Howth ' 192 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

The  Journey IQS 


CONTENTS.  x\ 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

PAGE 

Calais 203 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

The  Gendarme 211 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

The  Inn  at  Chantraine 221 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

Mr.  O’Leary . . 233 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

Paris 242 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 

Paris 253 

CHAPTER  XXX. 

Captain  Trevanion’s  Adventure 260 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 

Difficulties 268 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 

Explanation 272 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

Mr.  O’Leary’s  First  Love 278 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

Mr.  O’Leary’s  Second  Love 284 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 

The  Duel 292 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

Early  Recollections — A First  Love 303 


xii 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

PAGE 

Wise  Resolves 309 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

The  Proposal 314 

CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

Thoughts  upon  Matrimony  in  general,  and  in  the  Army  in  particular — 

The  Knight  of  Kerry  and  Billy  M‘Cabe 317 

CHAPTER  XL. 

A Reminiscence 321 

CHAPTER  XLI. 

The  Two  Letters 331 

CHAPTER  XLII. 

Mr.  O’Leary’s  Capture 336 

CPIAPTER  XLIII. 

The  Journey 338 

CHAPTER  XLIV. 

The  Journey 343 

CHAPTER  XLV. 

A Reminiscence  of  the  East 346 

CPIAPTER  XLVI. 

A Day  in  the  Phoenix 349 

CHAPTER  XLVII. 

An  Adventure  in  Canada ^53 

CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

The  Courier’s  Passport 3^T 

CHAPTER  XLIX. 

A Night  in  Strasbourg 3^7 


CONTENTS. 


xiii 

CHAPTER  L. 

PAGE 

A Surprise 374 

CHAPTER  LI. 

Jack  Waller’s  Story 382 

CHAPTER  LII. 

Munich 393 

CHAPTER  LIII. 

Inn  at  Munich 397 

CHAPTER  LIV. 

The  Ball 400 

CHAPTER  LV. 

A Discovery 406 

CHAPTER  LVI. 

Conclusion 416 


HARRY  LORREQUER 


CHAPTER  I. 

ARRIVAL  IN  CORK — CIVIC  FESTIVITIES — PRIVATE  THEATRICALS. 

It  was  on  a splendid  morning  in  the  autumn  of  the  year 
181 — that  the  Howard  transport,  with  400  of  his  Majesty’s  4 — th 
Regiment,  dropped  anchor  in  the  picturesque  harbor  of  Cove ; 
the  sea  shone  under  the  purple  light  of  the  rising  sun  with  a rich 
rosy  hue,  beautifully  in  contrast  with  the  different  tints  of  the 
foliage  of  the  deep  woods  already  tinged  with  the  brown  of  au- 
tumn. Spike  Island  lay  “ sleeping  upon  its  broad  shadow,” 
and  the  large  ensign  which  crowns  the  battery  was  wrapped 
around  the  flagstaff,  there  not  being  even  air  enough  to  stir  it. 
It  was  still  so  early  that  but  few  persons  were  abroad ; and  as 
we  leaned  over  the  bulwarks,  and  looked  now,  for  the  first 
time  for  eight  long  years,  upon  British  ground,  many  an  eye 
•filled,  and  many  a heaving  breast  told  how  full  of  recollections 
that  short  moment  was,  and  how  different  our  feelings  from  the 
gay  bouyancy  with  which  we  had  sailed  from  that  same  harbor 
for  the  Peninsula ; many  of  our  best  and  bravest  had  we  left 
behind  us,  and  more  than  one  native  to  the  land  we  were  ap- 
proaching had  found  his  last  rest  in  the  soil  of  the  stranger.  It 
was,  then,  with  a mingled  sense  of  pain  and  pleasure  we  gazed 
upon  that  peaceful  little  village,  whose  white  cottages  lay  dotted 
along  the  edge  of  the  harbor.  The  moody  silence  our  thoughts 
had  shed  over  us  was  soon  broken  : the  preparations  for  disem- 
barking had  begun,  and  I recollect  well  to  this  hour  how,  shak- 
ing off  the  load  that  oppressed  my  heart,  I descended  the  gang- 
way, humming  poor  Wolfe’s  well-known  song : — 

“ Why,  soldiers,  why 

Should  we  be  melancholy,  boys  ? ” 

And  to  this  elasticity  ot  spirits — whether  the  result  of  my  pro- 
fession or  the  gift  of  God — as  Dogberry  has  it — I know  not — I 


2 


HARRY  LORREQUER . 


owe  the  greater  portion  of  the  happiness  I have  enjoyed  in  a 
life,  whose  changes  and  vicissitudes  have  equalled  most  men’s. 

Drawn  up  in  a line  along  the  shore,  I could  scarce  refrain 
from  a smile  at  our  appearance.  Four  weeks  on  board  a trans- 
port will  certainly  not  contribute  much  to  the  personnel  of  any 
unfortunate  therein  confined ; but  when,  in  addition  to  this,  you 
take  into  account  that  we  had  not  received  new  clothes  for  three 
years — if  I except  caps  for  our  grenadiers,  originally  intended 
for  a Scotch  regiment,  but  found  to  be  all  too  small  for  the  long- 
headed generation.  Many  a patch  of  brown  and  gray  variegated 
the  faded  scarlet  of  our  uniform,  and  scarcely  a pair  of  knees  in 
the  entire  regiment  did  not  confess  their  obligations  to  a blanket. 
But  with  all  this,  we  showed  a stout,  weather-beaten  front,  that, 
disposed  as  the  passer-by  might  feel  to  laugh  at  our  expense, 
very  little  caution  would  teach  him  it  were  fully  as  safe  to  indulge 
it  in  his  sleeve. 

The  bells  from  every  steeple  and  tower  rang  gayly  out  a peal 
of  welcome  as  we  marched  into  “ that  beautiful  city  called  Cork,” 
our  band  playing  “ Garryowen  ” — for  we  had  been  originally 
raised  in  Ireland,  and  still  among  our  officers  maintained  a 
strong  majority  for  that  land  of  punch,  priests,  and  potatoes — 
the  tattered  flag  of  the  regiment  proudly  waving  over  our  heads, 
and  not  a man  amongst  us  whose  warm  heart  did  not  bound  be- 
hind a Waterloo  medal.  Well,  well !'  I am  now — alas  ! that  I 
should  say  it — somewhat  in  the  “ sere  and  yellow ; ” and  I con- 
fess, after  the  experience  of  some  moments  of  high,  triumphant 
feeling,  that  I never  before  felt  within  me  the  same  animating, 
spirit-filling  glow  of  delight  as  rose  within  my  heart  that  day  as 
I marched  at  the  head  of  my  company  down  George’s  Street. 

We  were  soon  settled  in  barracks ; and  then  began  a series  of 
entertainments  on  the  side  of  the  civic  dignities  of  Cork,  which 
led  most  of  us  to  believe  that  we  had  only  escaped  shot  and 
shell  to  fall  less  gloriously  beneath  champagne  and  claret.  I do 
not  believe  there  is  a coroner  in  the  island  who  would  have  pro- 
nounced but  the  one  verdict  over  the  regiment — “ Killed  by  the 
mayor  and  corporation,”  had  we  so  fallen. 

First  of  all,  we  were  dined  by  the  citizens  of  Cork — and,  to  do 
them  justice,  a harder  drinking  set  of  gentlemen  no  city  need 
boast ; then  we  were  feasted  by  the  corporation ; then  by  the 
sheriffs  ; then  came  the  mayor,  solus ; then  an  address,  with  a 
cold  collation,  that  left  eight  of  u$  on  the  sick-list  fer  a fortnight : 
but  the  climax  of  all  was  a grand  entertainment  given  in  the 
Mansion  House,  and  to  which  upwards  of  two  thousand  were 
invited.  It  was  a species  of  fancy  ball,  beginning  by  a dejeuner 
at  three  o’clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  ending — I never  yet  met 


ARRIVAL  IN  CORN. 


3 


the  man  who  could  tell  when  it  ended  ! As  for  myself,  my  finale 
partook  a little  of  the  adventurous,  and  I may  as  well  relate  it. 

After  waltzing  for  about  an  hour  with  one  of  the  prettiest  girls 
I ever  set  eyes  upon,  and  getting  a tender  squeeze  of  the  hand, 
as  I restored  her  to  a most  affable-looking  old  lady  in  a blue 
turban  and  a red  velvet  gown,  who  smiled  benignly  at  me,  and 
called  me  “ Meejor , ” I retired,  to  recruit  for  a new  attack,  to  a 
small  table,  where  three  of  ours  were  quaffin <gponche a la  Romaine, 
with  a crowd  of  Corkagians  about  them,  eagerly  inquiring  after 
some  heroes  of  their  own  city,  whose  deeds  of  arms  they  were 
surprised  did  not  obtain  special  mention  from  “ the  Duke.”  I 
soon  ingratiated  myself  into  this  well-occupied  clique,  and  dosed 
them  with  glory  to  their  hearts’  content.  I resolved  at  once  to 
enter  into  their  humor ; and  as  the  “ ponche  ” mounted  up  to 
my  brain  I gradually  found  my  acquaintanceship  extend  to  every 
family  and  connection  in  the  country. 

“ Did  ye  know  Phil  Beamish  of  the  3 — th,  sir  ? ” said  a tall, 
red-faced,  red-whiskered,  well-looking  gentleman,  who  bore  no 
slight  resemblance  to  Feargus  O’Connor. 

“ Phil  Beamish  ! ” said  I.  “ Indeed  I did,  sir,  and  do  still ; 
and  there  is  not  a man  in  the  British  army  I am  prouder  of 
knowing.”  Here,  by  the  way,  I may  mention  that  I never  heard 
the  name  till  that  moment. 

“You  don’t  say  so,  sir?”  said  Feargus — for  so  I must  call 
him,  for  shortness’  sake.  “ Has  he  any  chance  of  the  company 
yet,  sir?” 

“ Company  ! ” said  I,  in  astonishment.  “ He  obtained  his 
majority  three  months  since.  You  cannot  possibly  have  heard 
from  him  lately,  or  you  would  have  known  that  ? ” 

“ That’s  true,  sir.  I never  heard  since  he  quitted  tlifc  3 — th  to 
go  to  Versailles,  I think  they  call  it,  for  his  health.  But  how 
did  he  get  the  step,  sir  ? ” 

“ Why,  as  to  the  company,  that  was  remarkable  enough ! ” 
said  I,  quaffing  off  a tumbler  of  champagne  to  assist  my  inven- 
tion. “ You  know  it  was  about  four  o’clock  in  the  afternoon  of 
the  18th  that  Napoleon  ordered  Grouchy  to  advance  with  the 
first  and  second  brigade  of  the  Old  Guard  and  two  regiments 
of  chasseurs,  and  attack  the  position  occupied  by  Picton  and 
the  regiments  under  his  command.  Well,  sir,  on  they  came, 
masked  by  the  smoke  of  a terrific  discharge  of  artillery,  stationed 
on  a small  eminence  to  our  left,  and  which  did  tremendous  ex- 
ecution among  our  poor  fellows — on  they  came,  sir,  and  as  the 
smoke  cleared  partially  away  we  got  a glimpse  of  them,  and  a 
more  dangerous-looking  set  I should  not  desire  to  see  : grizzly- 
bearded,  hard-featured,  bronzed  fellows,  about  five-and-thirty  or 


4 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


forty  years  of  age  ; their  beauty  not  a whit  improved  by  the  red 
glare  thrown  upon  their  faces  and  along  the  whole  line  by  each 
Hash  of  the  long  twenty-fours  that  were  playing  away  to  the  right. 
Just  at  this  moment  Picton  rode  down  the  line  with  his  staff, 
and  stopping  within  a few  paces  of  me,  said,  4 They’re  coming 
up  : steady,  boys ; steady  now  : we  shall  have  something  to  do 
soon.’  And  then,  turning  sharply  round,  he  looked  in  the  di- 
rection of  the  French  battery,  that  was  thundering  away  again 
in  full  force,  4 Ah,  that  must  be  silenced,’  said  he.  4 Where’s 
Beamish  ? ’ ” 

44  Says  Picton ! ” interrupted  Feargus,  his  eyes  starting  from 
their  sockets,  and  his  mouth  growing  wider  every  moment,  as  he 
listened  with  the  most  intense  interest. 

44  Yes,”  said  I,  slowly.  And  then,  with  all  the  provoking  non- 
chalence  of  an  Italian  improvisatore,  who  always  halts  at  the 
most  exciting  point  of  his  narrative,  I begged  a listener  near  me 
to  fill  my  glass  from  the  iced  punch  beside  him.  Not  a sound 
was  heard  as  I lifted  the  bumper  to  my  lips  ; all  were  breathless 
in  their  wound-up  anxiety  to  hear  of  their  countryman  who  had 
been  selected  by  Picton — for  what,  too,  they  knew  not  yet,  and 
indeed,  at  that  instant,  I did  not  know  myself,  and  nearly  laughed 
outright,  for  the  two  of  ours  who  had  remained  at  the  table  had 
so  well  employed  their  interval  of  ease  as  to  become  very 
pleasantly  drunk,  and  were  listening  to  my  confounded  story 
with  all  the  gravity  and  seriousness  in  the  world. — 44  4 Where’s 
Beamish?’  said  Picton.  4 Here,  sir,’  said  Phil,  stepping  out 
from  the  line,  and  touching  his  cap  to  the  general,  who,  taking 
him  apart  for  a few  minutes,  spoke  to  him  with  great  animation. 
We  did  not  know  what  he  said ; but  before  five  minutes  were 
over,  there  was  Phil  with  three  companies  of  light-bobs  drawn 
up  at  our  left ; their  muskets  at  the  charge,  they  set  off  at  a 
round  trot  down  the  little  steep  which  closed  our  flank.  We 
had  not  much  time  to  follow  their  movements,  for  our  own 
amusement  began  soon ; but  I well  remember,  after  repelling 
the  French  attack,  and  standing  in  square  against  two  heavy 
charges  of  cuirassiers,  the  first  thing  I saw  where  the  French 
battery  had  stood,  was  Phil  Beamish  and  about  a handful  of 
brave  fellows,  all  that  remained  from  the  skirmish.  He  capt- 
ured two  of  the  enemy’s  field-pieces,  and  was  4 Captain  Beam- 
ish ’ on  the  day  after.” 

44  Long  life  to  him  ! ” said  at  least  a dozen  voices  behind  and 
about  me,  while  a general  clinking  of  decanters  and  smacking 
of  lips  betokened  that  Phil’s  health  with  all  the  honors  was 
being  celebrated.  For  myself,  I was  really  so  engrossed  by 
my  narrative,  and  so  excited  by  the  44  ponche,”  that  I saw  <*r 


ARRIVAL  IN  CORK . 


5 


heard  very  little  of  what  was  passing  around,  and  have  only  a 
kind  of  dim  recollection  of  being  seized  by  the  hand  by  “ Fear- 
gus,”  who  was  Beamish’s  brother,  and  who,  in  the  fulness  of 
his  heart,  would  have  hugged  me  to  his  breast,  if  I had  not  op- 
portunely been  so  overpowered  as  to  fall  senseless  under  the 
table. 

When  I first  returned  to  consciousness,  I found  myself  lying 
exactly  where  I had  fallen.  Around  me  lay  heaps  of  slain — 
the  two  of  “ ours  ” amongst  the  number.  One  of  them — I remem- 
ber he  was  the  adjutant — held  in  his  hand  a wax  candle  (two 
to  the  pound).  Whether  he  had  himself  seized  it  in  the  en- 
thusiasm of  my  narrative  of  flood  and  field,  or  it  had  been  put 
there  by  another*  I know  not,  but  he  certainly  cut  a droll  fig- 
ure. The  room  we  were  in  was  a small  one  off  the  great  saloon, 
and  through  the  half-open  folding-door  I could  clearly  perceive 
that  the  festivities  were  still  continued.  The  crash  of  fiddles 
and  French  horns,  and  the  tramp  of  feet,  which  had  lost  much 
of  their  elasticity  since  the  entertainment  began,  rang  through 
my  ears,  mingled  with  the  sounds  “ Down  the  middle,”  “ Hands 
across,”  “ Here’s  your  partner,  captain.”  What  hour  of  the  night 
or  morning  it  then  was,  I could  not  guess  ; but  certainly  the  vigor 
of  the  party  seemed  little  abated,  if  I might  judge  from  the  spe- 
cimen before  me,  and  the  testimony  of  a short  plethoric  gentleman, 
who  stood  wiping  his  bald  head,  after  conducting  his  partner 
down  twenty-eight  couple,  and  who,  turning  to  his  friend,  said, 
“ Oh,  the  distance  is  nothing,  but  it  is  the  pace  that  kills.” 

The  first  evidence  I showed  of  any  return  to  reason  was  a 
strong  anxiety  to  be  at  my  quarters  ; but  how  to  get  there  I 
knew  not.  The  faint  glimmering  of  sense  I possessed  told  me 
that  “ to  stand  was  to  fall,”  and  I was  ashamed  to  go  on  all- 
fours,  which  prudence  suggested. 

At  this  moment  I remembered  I had  brought  with  me  my 
cane,  which,  from  a perhaps  pardonable  vanity,  I was  fond  of 
parading.  It  was  a present  from  the  officers  of  my  regiment — 
many  of  them,  alas  ! since  dead — and  had  a most  splendid  gold 
head,  with  a stag  at  the  top — the  arms  of  the  regiment.  This 
I would  not  have  lost  for  any  consideration  I can  mention ; 
and  this  now  was  gone  ! I looked  around  me  on  every  side  ; I 
groped  beneath  the  table ; I turned  the  sleeping  sots  who  lay 
about  in  no  very  gentle  fashion  ; but,  alas  ! it  was  gone.  I 
sprang  to  my  feet,  and  only  then  remembered  how  unfit  I was 
to  follow  up  the  search,  as  tables,  chairs,  lights,  and  people 
seemed  all  rocking  and  waving  before  me.  However,  I suc- 
ceeded in  making  my  way  through  one  room  into  another,  some- 
times guiding  my  steps  along  the  walls,*  and  once,  as  I recol- 


6 


HARRY  LORRE QUER . 


lect,  striking  the  diagonal  of  a room,  I bisected  a quadrille  with 
such  ill-directed  speed,  as  to  run  foul  of  a Cork  dandy  and  his 
partner  who  were  just  performing  the  “ en  avant : ” but  though 
I saw  them  lie  tumbled  in  the  dust  by  the  shock  of  my  encoun- 
ter— for  I had  upset  them — I still  held  on  the  even  tenor  of  my 
way.  In  fact,  I had  feeling  for  but  one  loss  ; and,  still  in  pur- 
suit of  my  cane,  I reached  the  hall-door.  Now,  be  it  known 
that  the  architecture  of  the  Cork  Mansion  House  has  but  one 
fault,  but  that  fault  is  a grand  one,  and  a strong  evidence  of 
how  unsuited  English  architects  are  to  provide  buildings  for  a 
people  whose  tastes  and  habits  they  but  imperfectly  understand 
— be  it  known,  then,  that  the  descent  from  the  hall-door  to  the 
street  was  by  a flight  of  twelve  stone  steps.  How  I should  ever 
get  down  there  was  now  my  difficulty.  If  Falstaff  deplored 
“ eight  yards  of  uneven  ground  as  being  three  score  and  ten 
miles  a foot,”  with  equal  truth  did  I feel  that  these  twelve  aw- 
ful steps  were  worse  to  me  than  would  be  M‘Gillicucldy’s  Reeks 
in  the  daylight,  and  with  a head  clear  from  champagne. 

While  I yet  hesitated,  the  problem  resolved  itself ; for,  gazing 
down  upon  the  bright  gravel,  brilliantly  lighted  by  the  surround- 
ing lamps,  I lost  my  balance,  and  came  tumbling  and  rolling 
from  top  to  bottom,  where  I fell  upon  a large  mass  of  some  soft 
substance,  to  which,  in  all  probability,  I owe  my  life.  In  a few 
seconds  I recovered  my  senses,  and-  what  was  my  surprise  to 
find  that  the  downy  cushion  beneath  snored  most  audibly ! I 
moved  a little  to  one  side,  and  then  discovered  that  in  reality  it 
was  nothing  less  than  an  alderman  of  Cork,  who,  from  his  posi- 
tion, I concluded  had  shared  the  same  fate  with  myself : there  he 
lay,  “like  a warrior  taking  his  rest,”  but  not  with  his  “martial 
cloak  around  him,”  but  a much  more  comfortable  and  far  more 
costly  robe — a scarlet  gown  of  office — with  huge  velvet  cuffs  and 
a great  cape  of  the  same  material.  True  courage  consists  in 
presence  of  mind ; and  here  mine  came  to  my  aid  at  once  : rec- 
ollecting the  loss  I had  just  sustained,  and  perceiving  that  all 
was  still  about  me,  with  that  right  Peninsular  maxim,  that  re- 
prisals are  fair  in  an  enemy’s  camp,  I proceeded  to  strip  the 
slain ; and  with  some  little  difficulty — partly,  indeed,  owing  to 
my  own  unsteadiness  on  my  legs — I succeeded  in  denuding  the 
worthy  alderman,  who  gave  no  other  sign  of  life  during  the  oper- 
ation than  an  abortive  effort  to  “ hip,  hip,  hurrah ,”  in  which  I 
left  him,  having  put  on  the  spoil,  and  set  out  on  my  way  to  the 
barrack  with  as  much  dignity  of  manner  as  I could  assume  in 
honor  of  my  costume.  And  here  I may  mention  (in  a parenthe- 
sis) that  a more  comfortable  morning-gown  no  man  ever  possessed, 
and  in  its  wide  luxuriant  folds  I revel  while  I write  these  lines. 


ARRIVAL  W CORK. 


7 


When  I awoke  on  the  following  day  I had  considerable  diffi- 
culty in  tracing  the  events  of  the  past  evening.  The  great  scar- 
let cloak,  however,  unravelled  much  of  the  mystery,  and  gradu- 
ally the  whole  of  my  career  became  clear  before  me,  with  the 
single  exception  of  the  episode  of  Phil  Beamish,  about  which 
my  memory  was  subsequently  refreshed.  But  I anticipate. 
Only  five  appeared  that  day  at  mess  ; and,  Lord  ! what  spectres 
they  were  ! — yellow  as  guineas  : they  called  for  soda  water  with- 
out ceasing,  and  scarcely  spoke  a word  to  each  other.  It  was 
plain  that  the  corporation  of  Cork  was  committing  more  havoc 
among  us  than  Corunna  or  Waterloo,  and  that  if  we  did  not  change 
our  quarters,  there  would  be  quick  promotion  in  the  corps  for 
such  as  were  “ seasoned  gentlemen.’’  After  a day  or  two  we 
met  again  together,  and  then,  what  adventures  were  told  ! — each 
man  had  his  own  story  to  narrate ; and  from  the  occurrences  de- 
tailed, one  would  have  supposed  years  had  been  passing  instead 
of  the  short  hours  of  an  evening  party.  Mine  were,  indeed, 
among  the  least  remarkable  ; but  I confess  that  the  air  of  vrciisem- 
blance  produced  by  my  production  of  the  aldermanic  gown  gave 
me  the  palm  above  all  my  competitors. 

Such  was  our  life  in  Cork — dining,  drinking,  dancing,  riding, 
steeple-chasing,  pigeon  shooting,  and  tandem  driving — filling  up 
any  little  interval  that  was  found  to  exist  between  a late  break- 
fast and  the  time  to  dress  for  dinner ; and  here  I hope  I shall 
not  be  accused  of  a tendency  to  boasting,  while  I add,  that  among 
all  ranks  and  degrees  of  men,  and  women  too,  there  never  was  a 
regiment  more  highly  in  estimation  than  the  4 — th.  We  felt  the 
full  value  of  all  the  attentions  we  were  receiving,  and  we  en- 
deavored, as  best  we  might,  to  repay  them.  We  got  up  Garri- 
son Balls  and  Garrison  Plays,  and  usually  performed  once  or  twice 
a week  during  the  winter.  Here  I shone  conspicuously  : in  the 
morning  I was  employed  painting  scenery  and  arranging  the 
properties  ; as  it  grew  later,  I regulated  the  lamps  and  looked 
after  the  foot-lights,  mediating  occasionally  between  angry  liti- 
gants, whose  jealousies  abound  to  the  full  as  much  in  private 
theatricals  as  in  the  regular  corps  dramatique . Then,  I was  also 
leader  in  the  orchestra ; and  had  scarcely  given  the  last  scrape 
in  the  overture  before  I was  obliged  to  appear  to  speak  the  pro- 
logue. Such  are  the  cares  of  greatness  : to  do  myself  justice,  I 
did  not  dislike  them ; though,  to  be  sure,  my  taste  for  the  drama 
did  cost  me  a little  dear,  as  will  be  seen  in  the  sequel. 

We  were  then  in  the  full  career  of  popularity — our  balls  pro* 
nounced  the  very  pleasantest,  our  plays  far  superior  to  any  reg- 
ular corps  that  had  ever  honored  Cork  with  their  talent — when 
an  event  occurred  which  threw  a gloom  over  all  our  proceedings, 


8 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


and  finally  put  a stop  to  every  project  for  amusement  we  had 
so  completely  given  ourselves  up  to.  This  was  no  l$ss  than  the 
removal  of  our  Lieutenant-Colonel.  After  thirty  years  of  active 
service  in  the  regiment  he  then  commanded,  his  age  and  infirmi- 
ties, increased  by  some  severe  wounds,  demanded  ease  and  re- 
pose ; he  retired  from  us  bearing  along  with  him  the  love  and 
regard  of  every  man  in  the  regiment.  To  the  old  officers  he  was 
endeared  by  long  companionship,  and  undeviating  friendship ; to 
the  young,  he  was  in  every  respect  as  a father,  assisting  by  his 
advice,  and  guiding  by  his  counsel ; while  to  the  men,  the  best 
estimate  of  his  worth  appeared  in  the  fact  that  corporal  punish- 
ment was  unknown  in  the  corps.  Such  was  the  man  we  lost ; 
and  it  may  well  be  supposed  that  his  successor,  who,  or  whatever 
he  might  be,  came  under  circumstances  of  no  common  difficulty 
amongst  us ; but  when  I tell  that  our  new  Lieutenant-Colonel 
was  in  every  respect  his  opposite,  it  may  be  believed  how  little 
cordiality  he  met  with. 

Lieutenant-Colonel  Carden — for  so  I shall  call  him,  although 
not  his  real  name — had  not  been  a month  at  quarters  when  he 
proved  himself  a regular  martinet ; everlasting  drills,  continual 
reports,  fatigue  parties,  and  ball  practice,  and  Heaven  knows 
what  besides,  superseded  our  former  morning’s  occupation ; 
and,  at  the  end  of  the  time  I have  mentioned,  we,  who  had 
fought  our  way  from  Albuera  to  Waterloo,  under  some  of  the 
severest  generals  of  division,  were  pronounced  a most  disorderly 
and  ill-disciplined  regiment,  by  a colonel  who  had  never  seen  a 
shot  fired  but  at  a review  at  Hounslow,  or  a sham  battle  in  the 
Fifteen  Acres.  The  winter  was  now  drawing  to  a close — al- 
ready some  little  touch  of  spring  was  appearing — as  our  last 
play  for  the  season  was  announced,  and  every  effort  to  close 
with  some  little  additional  eclat  was  made  ; and  each  performer 
in  the  expected  piece  was  nerving  himself  for  an  effort  beyond 
his  wont.  The  Colonel  had  most  unequivocally  condemned 
these  plays  ; but  that  mattered  not — they  came  not  within  his 
jurisdiction — and  we  took  no  notice  of  his  displeasure  further 
than  sending  him  tickets,  which  were  as  immediately  returned 
as  received.  From  being  the  chief  offender  I had  become  par- 
ticularly obnoxious  ; and  he  had  upon  more  than  one  occasion 
expressed  his  desire  for  an  opportunity  to  visit  me  with  his 
vengeance  ; but  being  aware  of  his  kind  intentions  towards  me 
I took  particular  care  to  let  no  such  opportunity  occur. 

On  the  morning  in  question,  then,  I had  scarcely  left  my 
quarters  when  one  of  my  brother  officers  informed  me  that  the 
Colonel  had  made  a great  uproar,  that  one  of  the  bills  of  the 
play  had  been  put  up  on  his  door — which,  with  his  avowed  dis- 


ARRIVAL  IN  CORN. 


9 


like  co  such  representations,  he  considered  as  intended  to  insult 
him  : he  added,  too,  that  the  Colonel  attributed  it  to  me.  In 
this,  however,  he  was  wrong — and,  to  this  hour,  I never  knew 
who  did  it.  I had  little  time,  and  still  less  inclination,  to  medi- 
tate upon  the  Colonel’s  wrath — the  theatre  had  all  my  thoughts  ; 
and  indeed  it  was  a day  of  no  common  exertion,  for  our  amuse- 
ments were  to  conclude  with  a grand  supper  on  the  stage,  to 
which  all  the  elite  of  Cork  were  invited.  Wherever  I went 
through  the  city — and  many  were  my  peregrinations — the  great 
placard  of  the  play  stared  me  in  the  face  ; and  every  gate  and 
shuttered  window  in  Cork  proclaimed  “ The  part  of  Othello 
by  Mr.  Lorrequer.” 

As  evening  drew  near  my  cares  and  occupations  were  re- 
doubled. My  lago  I had  fears  for — ’tis  true  he  was  an  admira- 
ble Lord  Grizzle  in  Tom  Thumb — but  then — then  I had  to 
paint  the  whole  company,  and  bear  all  their  abuse  besides,  for 
not  making  some  of  the  most  ill-looking  wretches  perfect  Apol- 
los  ; but,  last  of  all,  I was  sent  for,  at  a quarter  to  seven,  to  lace 
Desdemona’s  stays.  Start  not,  gentle  reader,  my  fair  Desde- 
mona — she  “who  might  lie  by  an  emperor’s  side,  and  command 
him  tasks  ” — was  no  other  than  the  senior  lieutenant  of  the 
regiment,  and  who  was  as  great  a votary  of  the  jolly  god  as 
honest  Cassio  himself.  But  I must  hasten  on  ; I cannot  delay 
to  recount  our  successes  in  detail  Let  it  suffice  to  say,  that, 
by  universal  consent,  I was  preferred  to  Kean ; and  the  only 
fault  the  most  critical  observer  could  find  to  the  representative 
of  Desdemona,  was  a rather  unladylike  fondness  for  snuff.  But 
whatever  little  demerit  our  acting  might  have  displayed,  were 
speedily  forgotten  in  a champagne  supper.  There  I took  the 
head  of  the  table ; and  in  the  costume  of  the  noble  Moor, 
toasted,  made  speeches,  returned  thanks,  and  sang  songs,  till  I 
might  have  exclaimed  with  Othello  himself  “ Chaos  is  come 
again ; ” and  I believe  I owe  my  ever  reaching  the  barrack  that 
night  to  the  kind  offices  of  Desdemona,  who  carried  me  the 
greater  part  of  the  way  on  her  back. 

The  first  waking  thoughts  of  him  who  has  indulged  overnight 
are  not  among  the  most  blissful  of  existence,  and  certainly  the 
pleasure  is  not  increased  by  the  consciousness  that  he  is  called 
on  to  the  discharge  of  duties  to  which  a fevered  pulse  and 
throbbing  temples  are  but  ill  suited.  My  sleep  was  suddenly 
broken  in  upon  the  morning  after  the  play  by  a “ row-dow-dow  ” 
beat  beneath  my  window.  I jumped  hastily  from  my  bed  and 
looked  out,  and  there,  to  my  horror,  perceived  the  regiment  un- 
der arms.  It  was  one  of  our  confounded  Colonel’s  morning 
drills ; and  there  he  stood  himself,  with  the  poor  adjutant  wh© 


io 


HARRY  lorrrquer . 


had  been  up  all  night,  shivering  beside  him.  Some  two  Of 
three  of  the  officers  had  descended  ; and  the  drum  was  now 
summoning  the  others  as  it  beat  round  the  barrack-square.  I 
saw  there  was  not  a moment  to  lose,  and  proceeded  to  dress 
with  all  dispatch  ; but,  to  my  misery,  I discovered  everywhere 
nothing  but  theatrical  robes  and  decorations — there,  lay  a 
splendid  turban,  here,  a pair  of  buskins — a spangled  jacket 
glittered  on  one  table,  and  a jewelled  scimitar  on  the  other. 
At  last  I detected  my  “ regimental  small-clothes,”  most  ignomin- 
iously  thrust  into  a corner  in  my  ardor  for  my  Moorish  robes 
the  preceding  evening. 

I dressed  myself  with  the  speed  of  lightning ; but  as  I pro- 
ceeded in  my  occupation,  guess  my  annoyance  to  find  that  the 
toilet-table  and  glass,  ay,  and  even  the  basin-stand,  had  been 
removed  to  the  dressing-room  of  the  theatre ; and  my  servant, 
I suppose,  following  his  master’s  example,  was  too  tipsy  to  re- 
member to  bring  them  back,  so  that  I was  unable  to  procure 
the  luxury  of  cold  water — for  now  not  a moment  more  re- 
mained, the  drum  had  ceased,  and  the  men  had  all  fallen  in. 
Hastily  drawing  on  my  coat,  I put  on  my  shako,  and  buckling 
on  my  belt  as  dandy-like  as  might  be,  hurried  down  the  stairs 
to  the  barrack-yard.  By  the  time  I got  down,  the  men  were  all 
drawn  up  in  line  along  the  square,  while  the  adjutant  was  pro- 
ceeding to  examine  their  accoutrements,  as  he  passed  down. 
The  Colonel  and  the  officers  were  standing  in  a group,  but  not 
conversing.  The  anger  of  the  commanding  officer  appeared 
still  to  continue,  and  there  was  a dead  silence  maintained  on 
both  sides.  To  reach  the  spot  where  they  stood  I had  to  pass 
along  part  of  the  line.  In  doing  so,  how  shall  I convey  my 
amazement  at  the  faces  that  met  me — a general  titter  ran  along 
the  entire  rank,  which  not  even  their  fears  for  consequences 
seemed  able  to  repress — for  an  effort,  on  the  part  of  many,  to 
stifle  the  laugh,  only  ended  in  a still  louder  burst  of  merriment. 
I looked  to  the  far  side  of  the  yard  for  an  explanation,  but  there 
was  nothing  there  to  account  for  it.  I now  crossed  over  to 
where  the  officers  were  standing,  determining  in  my  own  mind 
to  investigate  the  occurrence  thoroughly,  when  free  from  the 
presence  of  the  Colonel,  to  whom  any  representation  of  ill  con- 
duct always  brought  a punishment  far  exceeding  the  merits  of 
the  case. 

Scarcely  had  I formed  this  resolve,  when  I reached  the  group 
of  officers,  but  the  moment  I came  near,  one  general  roar  of 
laughter  saluted  me,  the  like  of  which  I never  before  heard.  I 
looked  down  at  my  costume,  expecting  to  discover  that,  in  my 
hurry  to  dress,  I had  put  on  some  of  the  garments  of  Othello. 


ARRIVAL  IN  CORK. 


II 


No  : all  was  perfectly  correct,  I waited  for  a moment,  till,  the 
first  burst  of  their  merriment  over,  I should  obtain  a clue  to  the 
jest.  But  there  seemed  no  prospect  of  this,  for,  as  I stood  pa- 
tiently before  them,  their  mirth  appeared  to  increase.  Indeed, 

poor  G , the  senior  major,  one  of  the  gravest  men  in  Europe, 

laughed  till  the  tears  ran  down  his  cheeks  ; and  such  was  the 
effect  upon  me,  that  I was  induced  to  laugh  too — as  men  will 
sometimes,  from  the  infectious  nature  of  that  strange  emotion — 
but,  no  sooner  did  I do  this,  than  their  fun  knew  no  bounds, 
and  some  almost  screamed  aloud  in  the  excess  of  their  merri- 
ment. Just  at  this  instant  the  Colonel,  who  had  been  examin- 
ing some  of  the  men,  approached  our  group,  advancing  with  an 
air  of  evident  displeasure,  as  the  shouts  of  laughter  continued. 
As  he  came  up,  I turned  hastily  round,  and  touching  my  cap, 
wished  him  good-morning.  Never  shall  I forget  the  look  he 
gave  me.  If  a glance  could  have  annihilated  any  man,  his 
would  have  finished  me.  For  a moment  his  face  became  pur- 
pie  with  rage,  his  eye  was  almost  hid  beneath  his  bent  brow, 
and  he  absolutely  shook  with  passion. 

“ Go,  sir,”  said  he  at  length,  as  soon  as  he  was  able  to  find 
utterance  for  his  words — “ go,  sir,  to  your  quarters  ; and  before 
you  leave  them,  a court-martial  shall  decide  if  such  continued 
insult  to  your  commanding  officer  warrants  your  name  being  in 
the  Army  List.” 

“ What  the  devil  can  all  this  mean  ? ” I said,  in  a half-whis- 
per, turning  to  the  others.  But  there  they  stood,  their  hand- 
kerchiefs to  their  mouths,  and  evidently  choking  with  suppressed 
laughter. 

“ May  I beg,  Colonel  Carden,”  said  I— — 

“To  your  quarters,  sir,”  roared  the  little  man  in  the  voice  of 
a lion.  And,  with  a haughty  wave  of  his  hand,  prevented  all 
further  attempt  on  my  part  to  seek  explanation. 

“ They’re  all  mad,  every  man  of  them,”  I muttered,  as  I be- 
took myself  slowly  back  to  my  rooms,  amid  the  same  evidences 
of  mirth  my  first  appearance  had  axcited — which  even  the  Colo- 
nel’s presence,  feared  as  he  was,  could  not  entirely  sub- 
due. 

With  the  air  of  a martyr  I trod  heavily  up  the  stairs,  and  en- 
tered my  quarters,  meditating  within  myself  awful  schemes  for 
vengeance  on  the  now  open  tyranny  of  my  Colonel ; upon  whom, 
I too,  in  my  honest  rectitude  of  heart,  vowed  to  have  a “ court- 
martial.”  I threw  myself  upon  a chair,  and  endeavored  to  recol- 
lect what  circumstances  of  the  past  evening  could  have  possibly 
suggested  all  the  mirth  in  which  both  officers  and  men  seemed 
to  participate  equally  ; but  nothing  could  I remember  capable  of 


I 2 


HARRY  LORR  EQUER. 


solving  the  mystery  : surely  the  cruel  wrongs  of  the  manly 
Othello  were  no  laughter-moving  subject. 

I rang  the  bell  hastily  for  my  servant.  The  door  opened. 

“ Stubbes,”  said  I,  “ are  you  aware ” 

I had  only  got  so  far  in  my  question,  when  my  servant,  one  of 
the  most  discreet  of  men,  put  on  a broad  grin,  and  turned  away 
towards  the  door  to  hide  his  face. 

“ What  the  devil  does  this  mean  ? ” said  I,  stamping  with  pas- 
sion ; “ he  is  as  bad  as  the  rest.  Stubbes  ” — and  this  time  I 
spoke  with  the  most  grave  and  severe  tone — “ what  is  the  mean- 
ing of  this  insolence  ? ” 

“Oh,  sir,”  said  the  man — “ oh,  sir,  surely  you  did  not  appear 
on  parade  with  that  face  ? ” And  then  he  burst  into  a fit  of  the 
most  uncontrollable  laughter. 

Like  lightning  a horrid  doubt  shot  across  my  mind.  I sprang 
over  to  the  dressing-glass,  which  had  been  replaced,  and,  oh ! 
horror  of  horrors  ! there  I stood  as  black  as  the  king  of  Ashan- 
tee.  The  cursed  dye  which  I had  put  on  for  Othello,  I had 
never  washed  off, — and  there,  with  a huge  bearskin  shako,  and 
a pair  of  dark  bushy  whiskers,  shone  my  huge,  black,  and  pol- 
ished visage,  glowering  at  itself  in  the  looking-glass. 

My  first  impulse,  after  amazement  had  a little  subsided,  was 
to  laugh  immoderately ; in  this  I was  joined  by  Stubbes,  who, 
feeling  that  his  mirth  was  participated  in,  gave  full  vent  to  his 
risibility.  And,  indeed,  as  I stood  before  the  glass,  grinning 
from  ear  to  ear,  I felt  very  little  surprised  that  my  joining  in  the 
laughter  of  my  brother  officers,  a short  time  before,  had  caused 
an  increase  of  their  merriment.  I threw  myself  upon  a sofa, 
and  absolutely  laughed  till  my  sides  ached,  when,  the  door  open* 
ing,  the  adjutant  made  his  appearance.  He  looked  for  a mo- 
ment at  me,  then  at  Stubbes,  and  then  burst  out  himself,  as  loud 
as  either  of  us.  When  he  had  at  length  recovered  himself,  he 
wiped  his  face  with  his  handkerchief,  and  said,  with  a tone  of 
much  gravity, — 

“ But,  my  dear  Lorrequer,  this  will  be  a serious — a devilish 
serious  affair.  You  know  what  kind  of  man  Colonel  Carden  is  ; 
and  you  are  aware,  too,  you  are  not  one  of  his  prime  favorites. 
He  is  firmly  persuaded  that  you  intended  to  insult  him,  and  noth- 
ing will  convince  him  to  the  contrary.  We  told  him  how  it  must 
have  occurred,  but  he  will  listen  to  no  explanation.” 

I thought  for  one  second  before  I replied.  My  mind,  with  the 
practised  rapidity  of  an  old  campaigner,  took  in  all  the  pros  and 
cons  of  the  case  ; I saw  at  a glance  it  were  better  to  brave  the 
anger  of  the  Colonel,  come  in  what  shape  it  might  than  be  the 


ARRIVAL  IN  CORN 


13 


laughing-stock  of  the  mess  for  life,  and  with  a face  of  the  great- 
est gravity  and  self-possession,  said, — 

“ Well,  adjutant,  the  Colonel  is  right.  It  was  no  mistake ! 
You  know  I sent  him  tickets  yesterday  for  the  theatre.  Well, 
he  returned  them  ; this  did  not  annoy  me,  but  on  one  account : 
I had  made  a wager  with  Alderman  Gullable  that  the  Colonel 
should  see  me  in  Othello.  What  was  be  done  ? Don’t  you  see, 
now,  there  was  only  one  course,  and  I took  it,  old  boy,  and  have 
won  my  bet ! ” 

“ And  lost  your  commission  for  a dozen  of  champagne,  I sup- 
pose,said  the  adjutant. 

“ Never  mind,  my  dear  fellow/’  I replied ; “ I shall  get  out  of 
this  scrape,  as  I have  done  many  others.” 

“ But  what  do  you  intend  doing  ? ” 

“ Oh,  as  to  that,”  said  I,  “ I shall,  of  course,  wait  on  the  Colo- 
nel immediately  ; pretend  to  him  that  it  was  a mere  blunder 
from  the  inattention  of  my  servant — hand  over  Stubbes  to  the 
powers  that  punish  ” (here  the  poor  fellow  winced  a little),  “ and 
make  my  peace  as  well  as  I can.  But,  adjutant,  mind,”  said  I, 
“ and  give  the  real  version  to  all  our  fellows,  and  tell  them  to 
make  it  public  as  much  as  they  please.” 

“ Never  fear,”  said  he,  as  he  left  the  room  still  laughing, 
“ they  shall  all  know  the  true  story ; but  I wish  with  all  my 
heart  you  were  well  out  of  it.” 

I now  lost  no  time  in  making  my  toilet,  and  presented  myself 
at  the  Colonel’s  quarters.  It  is  no  pleasure  for  me  to  recount 
these  passages  in  my  life,  in  which  I have  had  to  bear  the 
“ proud  man’s  contumely.”  I shall  therefore  merely  observe, 
that  after  a very  long  interview,  the  Colonel  accepted  my  apolo- 
gies, and  we  parted. 

Before  a week  elapsed,  the  story  had  gone  far  and  near  •, 
every  dinner-table  in  Cork  had  laughed  at  it.  As  for  me,  I 
attained  immortal  honor  for  my  tact  and  courage.  Poor  Gulla- 
ble readily  agreed  to  favor  the  story,  and  gave  us  a dinner  as 
the  lost  wager,  and  the  Colonel  was  so  unmercifully  quizzed  on 
the  subject,  and  such  broad  allusions  to  his  being  humbugged 
were  given  in  the  Cork  papers,  that  he  was  obliged  to  negotiate 
a change  of  quarters  with  another  regiment,  to  get  out  of  the 
continual  jesting,  and  in  less  than  a month  we  marched  to 
Limerick,  to  relieve,  as  it  was  reported,  the  9th,  ordered  for 
foreign  service,  but,  in  reality,  only  to  relieve  Lieut.-Colonel 
Carden,  quizzed  beyond  endurance. 

However,  if  the  Colonel  had  seemed  to  forgive,  he  did  not 
forget,  for  the  very  second  week  after  our  arrival  in  Limerick, 


14 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


I received  one  morning  at  my  breakfast-table  the  following 
brief  note  from  our  adjutant  : 

“ My  Dear  Lorrequer, — The  Colonel  has  received  orders  to 
despatch  two  companies  to  some  remote  part  of  the  county 
Clare,  and  as  you  have  4 done  the  state  some  service/  you  are 
selected  for  the  beautiful  town  of  Kilrush,  where,  to  use  the 
eulogistic  language  of  the  geography  books,  ‘ there  is  a good 
harbor,  and  a market  plentifully  supplied  with  fish.’  I have 
just  heard  of  the  kind  intention  in  store  for  you,  and  lose  no 
time  in  letting  you  know. 

“ God  give  you  a good  deliverance  from  the  ‘garfons  blancsj 
as  the  Moniteur  calls  the  Whiteboys,  and  believe  me  ever  yours, 

“ Charles  Curzon.” 

I had  scarcely  twice  read  over  the  adjutant’s  epistle,  when 
I received  an  official  notification  from  the  Colonel,  directing  me 
to  proceed  to  Kilrush,  then  and  there  to  afford  all  aid  and  as- 
sistance in  suppressing  illicit  distillation,  when  called  on  for 
that  purpose  ; and  other  similar  duties  too  agreeable  to  recapitu- 
late. Alas  ! alas  ! “ Othello’s  occupation  ” was  indeed  gone  ! 
The  next  morning  at  sunrise  saw  me  on  my  march,  with  what 
appearance  of  gayety  I could  muster,  but  in  reality  very  much 
chapfallen  at  my  banishment,  and  invoking  sundry  things  upon 
the  devoted  head  of  the  Colonel,  which  he  would  by  no  means 
consider  as  “ blessings.” 

How  short-sighted  are  we  mortals,  whether  enjoying  all  the 
pomp  and  state  of  royalty,  or  marching  like  myself  at  the  head 
of  a detachment  of  his  Majesty’s  4 — th. 

Little,  indeed,  did  I anticipate  that  the  Siberia  to  which  I 
fancied  I was  condemned  should  turn  out  the  happiest  quarters 
my  fate  ever  threw  me  into.  But  this,  including  as  it  does  one 
of  the  most  important  events  of  my  life,  I reserve  for  another 
chapter. 

“What  is  that  place  called,  Sergeant?” — “ Bunratty  Gastle, 
sir.” 

“ Where  do  we  breakfast  ? ■“  At  Clare  island,  *it.” 

“ March  away,  hoy*  ! >p 


DETACHMENT  DUTY. 


\ 


if 


CHAPTER  II. 

DETACHMENT  DUTY — THE  “ BURTON  ARMS  ” — CALLONBY. 

For  a week  after  my  arrival  at  Kilrush,  my  life  was  one  o) 
the  most  dreary  monotony.  The  rain,  which  had  begun  to  fal) 
as  I left  Limerick,  continued  to  descend  in  torrents,  and  I found 
myself  a close  prisoner  in  the  sanded  parlor  of  “ mine  inn.5' 
At  no  time  would  such  “ durance  vile  ” have  been  agreeable , 
but  now,  when  I contrasted  it  with  all  I had  left  behind  at  head 
quarters,  it  was  absolutely  maddening.  The  pleasant  lounge  in 
the  morning,  the  social  mess,  and  the  agreeable  evening  party, 
were  all  exchanged  for  a short  promenade  of  fourteen  feet  in 
one  direction,  and  twelve  in  the  other,  such  being  the  accurate 
measurement  of  my  “salle  k manger ;”  a chicken,  with  legs  as 
blue  as  a Highlander’s  in  winter,  for  my  dinner ; and  the  hours 
that  all  Christian  mankind  were  devoting  to  pleasant  intercourse 
and  agreeable  chit-chat,  spent  in  beating  that  dead-march  to 
time,  “ the  Devil’s  Tattoo,”  upon  my  rickety  table,  and  forming, 
between  whiles,  sundry  valorous  resolutions  to  reform  my  life, 
and  “eschew  sack  and  loose  company.” 

My  front  window  looked  out  upon  a long,  straggling,  ill-paved 
street,  with  its  due  proportion  of  mud-heaps  and  duck-pools ; the 
houses  on  either  side  were,  for  the  most  part,  dingy  looking  edi- 
fices, with  half-doors,  and  such  pretension  to  being  shops  as  a 
quart  of  meal,  or  salt,  displayed  in  the  window,  confers  ; or  some- 
times two  tobacco-pipes,  placed  “saltier-wise,”  would  appeal 
the  only  vendible  article  in  the  establishment.  A more  wretched, 
gloomy-looking  picture  of  woebegone  poverty  I never  beheld. 

If  I turned  for  consolation  to  the  back  of  the  house,  my  eyes 
fell  upon  the  dirty  yard  of  a dirty  inn  ; the  half-thatched  cow- 
shed, where  two  famished  animals  mourned  their  hard  fate, — 
“ chewing  the  cud  of  sweet  and  bitter  fancy ; ” the  chaise,  the 
yellow  post-chaise,  once  the  pride  and  glory  of  the  establishment, 
now  stood  reduced  from  its  wheels,  and  ignominiously  degraded 
to  a hen-house  : on  the  grass-grown  roof  a cock  had  taken  his 
stand,  with  an  air  of  protective  patronage  to  the  feathered  in- 
habitants beneath : 

“To  what  base  uses  must  we  come  at  last.” 

That  chaise,  which  once  had  conveyed  the  blooming  bride,  all 
blushes  and  tenderness,  and  the  happy  groom,  on  their  honey- 
moon visit  to  Ballybunnion  and  its  romantic  caves,  or  to  the  gi- 


i6 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


gantic  cliffs  and  sea-girt  shores  of  Moher — or  with  more  steady 
pace  and  becoming  gravity  had  borne  along  the  “ going  judge 
of  assize/’ — was  now  become  a lying-in  hospital  for  fowls,  and 
a nursery  for  chickens.  Fallen  as  I was  from  my  high  estate, 
it  afforded  me  a species  of  malicious  satisfaction  to  contemplate 
these  sad  reverses  of  fortune  ; and  I verily  believe — for  on  such 
slight  foundation  our  greatest  resolves  are  built — that  if  the 
rain  had  continued  a week  longer,  I should  have  become  a mis- 
anthropist for  life.  I made  many  inquiries  from  my  landlady 
as  to  the  society  of  the  place,  but  the  answers  I received  only 
led  to  greater  despondence.  My  predecessor  here,  it  seemed, 
had  been  an  officer  of  a veteran  battalion,  with  a wife,  and  that 
amount  of  children  which  is  algebraically  expressed  by  an  x — 
meaning,  an  unknown  quantity.  He,  good  man,  in  his  two  years’ 
sojourn  here,  had  been  much  more  solicitous  about  his  own  af- 
fairs than  making  acquaintance  with  his  neighbors ; and  at  last, 
the  few  persons  who  had  been  in  the  habit  of  calling  on  “ the 
officer,”  gave  up  the  practice ; and  as  there  were  no  young  la- 
dies to  refresh  Pa’s  memory  on  the  matter,  they  soon  forgot 
completely  that  such  a person  existed — and  to  this  happy  obliv- 
ion I,  Harry  Lorrequer,  succeeded,  and  was  thus  left  without 
benefit  of  clergy  to  the  tender  mercies  of  Mrs.  Healy  of  the 
“ Burton  Arms.” 

As  during  the  inundation  which  deluged  the  whole  country 
around  I was  unable  to  stir  from  the  house,  I enjoyed  abundant 
opportunity  of  cultivating  the  acquaintance  of  my  hostess,  and  it 
is  but  fair  that  my  reader,  who  has  journeyed  so  far  with  me, 
should  have  an  introduction. 

Mrs.  Healy,  the  sole  proprietor  of  the  “ Burton  Arms,”  was 
of  some  five-and-fifty — “ or  by’r  lady,”  threescore  years — of  a 
rubicund  and  hale  complexion ; and  though  her  short  neck  and 
corpulent  figure  might  have  set  her  down  as  “ doubly  hazard- 
ous,” she  looked  a good  life  for  many  years  to  come.  In  height 
and  breadth  she  most  nearly  resembled  a sugar-hogshead,  whose 
rolling,  pitching  motion,  when  trundled  along  on  edge,  she  emu- 
lated in  her  gait.  To  the  ungainliness  of  her  figure  her  mode 
of  dressing  not  a little  contributed.  She  usually  wore  a thick 
linsey-woolsey  gown,  with  enormous  pockets  on  either  side,  and, 
like  Nora  Creina’s,  it  certainly  inflicted  no  undue  restriction 
upon  her  charms,  but  left 

“ Every  beauty  free, 

To  sink  or  swell  as  Heaven  pleases.” 


Her  feet — ye  gods  ! such  feet — were  apparelled  in  listing  slip 


DETACHMENT  DUTY. 


l7 

pers,  over  which  the  upholstery  of  her  ankles  descended,  and 
completely  relieved  the  mind  of  the  spectator  as  to  the  super- 
incumbent weight  being  disproportioned  to  the  support.  I re- 
member well  my  first  impression  on  seeing  those  feet  and  ankles 
reposing  upon  a straw  footstool,  while  she  took  her  afternoon 
doze,  and  I wondered  within  myself  if  elephants  were  liable  to 
the  gout.  There  are  few  countenances  in  the  world  that,  if 
wishing  to  convey  an  idea  of,  we  cannot  refer  to  some  well-known 
standard  ; and  thus  nothing  is  more  common  than  to  hear  com- 
parisons with  “ Vulcan — Venus — Nicodemus,”  and  the  like  ; 
but  in  the  present  case  I am  totally  at  a loss  for  anything  re- 
sembling the  face  of  the  worthy  Mrs.  Healy,  except  it  be,  per- 
haps, that  most  ancient  and  sour  visage  we  used  to  see  upon 
old  circular  iron  rappers  formerly — they  make  none  of  them  now 
— the  only  difference  being,  that  Mrs.  Healy’s  nose  had  no 
ring  through  it ; I am  almost  tempted  to  add,  “ more’s  the  pity.” 
Such  was  she  in  “ the  flesh ; ” would  that  I could  say,  she 
was  more  fascinating  in  the  “ spirit ! ” but,  alas,  truth,  from 
which  I never  may  depart  in  these  “ my  confessions,”  constrains 
me  to  acknowledge  the  reverse.  Most  persons,  in  this  misera- 
ble world  of  ours,  have  some  prevailing,  predominating  charac- 
teristic, which  usually  gives  the  tone  and  color  to  all  their 
thoughts  and  actions,  forming  what  we  denominate  tempera- 
ment ; this  we  see  actuating  them,  now  more,  now  less  ; but 
rarely,  however,  is  this  great  spring  of  action  without  its  mo- 
ments of  repose.  Not  so  with  her  of  whom  I have  been  speak- 
ing. She  had  but  one  passion — but  like  Aaron’s  rod,  it  had  a 
most  consuming  tendency — and  that  was  to  scold  and  abuse  all 
whom  hard  fate  had  brought  within  the  unfortunate  limits  of  her 
tyranny.  The  English  language,  comprehensive  as  it  is,  afforded 
no  epithets  strong  enough  for  her  wrath,  and  she  sought  among 
the  more  classic  beauties  of  her  native  Irish  such  additional 
ones  as  served  her  need,  and  with  this  holy  alliance  of 
tongues  she  had  been,  for  years  long,  the  dread  and  terror  of 
the  entire  village. 

“ The  dawning  of  morn,  the  daylight  sinking,” 

ay,,  and  even  the  “ night’s  dull  hours,”  it  was  said,  too,  found 
her  laboring  in  her  congenial  occupation ; and  while  thus  she 
continued  to  “ scold  and  grow  fat,”  her  inn,  once  a popular  and 
frequented  one,  became  gradually  less  and  less  frequented,  and 
the  dragon  of  the  Rhine-fells  did  not  more  effectually  lay  waste 
the  territory  about  him,  than  did  the  evil  influence  of  her  tongue 
spread  desolation  and  ruin  around  her.  Her  inn,  at  the  time  of 
z 


i8 


HARRY  LORREQUER . 


my  visit,  had  not  been  troubled  with  even  a passing  traveller  fot 
many  months  ; and,  indeed,  had  I had  any,  even  the  least  fore- 
knowledge of  the  character  of  my  hostess,  its  privacy  should 
have  still  remained  uninvaded  for  some  time  longer. 

I had  not  been  many  hours  installed,  when  I got  a specimen 
of  her  powers ; and  before  the  first  week  was  over,  so  constant 
and  unremitting  were  her  labors  in  • this  way  that  I have,  upon 
the  occasion  of  a slight  lull  in  the  storm,  occasioned  by  her  fall 
ing  asleep,  actually  left  my  room  to  inquire  if  anything  had 
gone  wrong,  in  the  same  way  as  the  miller  is  said  to  awake 
when  the  mill  stops.  I trust  I have  said  enough  to  move  the 
reader’s  pity  and  compassion  for  my  situation — one  more  miser- 
able it  is  difficult  to  conceive.  It  may  be  thought  that  much 
might  be  done  by  management,  and  that  a slight  exercise  of  the 
favorite  Whig  plan  might  avail.  Nothing  of  the  kind.  She  was 
proof  against  all  such  arts  ; and  what  was  still  worse,  there  was 
no  subject,  no  possible  circumstance,  no  matter,  past,  present, 
or  to  come  that  she  could  not  wind,,  by  her  diabolical  ingenuity, 
into  some  cause  of  offence  , and  then  came  the  quick  transition 
to  instant  punishment.  Thus,  my  apparently  harmless  inquiry 
as  to  the  society  of  the  neighborhood,  suggested  to  her — a wish 
on  my  part  to  make  acquaintance — therefore  to  dine  out — there- 
fore not  to  dine  at  home — consequently  to  escape  paying  half- 
a-crown  and  devouring  a chicken — therefore  defraud  her,  and 
behave,  as  she  would  herself  observe,  “ like  a beggarly  scull- 
ion, with  his  four  shillings  a day,  setting  up  for  a gentleman,” 
etc. 

By  a quiet  and  Job-like  endurance  of  all  manner  of  taunting 
suspicions  and  unmerited  sarcasms,  to  which  I daily  became 
more  reconciled,  I absolutely  rose  into  something  like  favor ; 
and  before  the  first  month  of  my  banishment  expired,  had  got 
the  length  of  an  invitation  to  tea  in  her  own  snuggery — an 
honor  never  known  to  be  bestowed  on  any  before,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  Father  Malachi  Brennan,  her  ghostly  adviser ; and 
even  he,  it  is  said,  never  ventured  on  such  an  approximation  to 
intimacy^  until  he  was,  in  Kilrush  phrase,  “half  screwed,” 
thereby  meaning  more  than  half  tipsy.  From  time  to  time,  thus, 
I learned  from  my  hostess  such  particulars  of  the  country  and 
its  inhabitants  as  I was  desirous  of  hearing ; and  among  other 
matters,  she  gave  me  an  account  of  the  great  landed  proprietor 
himself,  Lord  Callonby,  who  was  daily  expected  at  his  seat 
within  some  miles  of  Kilrush,  at  the  same  time  assuring  me 
that  I need  not  be  looking  so  “ pleased  and  curling  out  my  whisk- 
ers ; ” “ that  they’d  never  take  the  trouble  of  asking  even  the 
4ame  of  me,”  This,  though  neither  very  courteous,  nor  alto- 


DETACHMENT  DUTY. 


19 


gether  flattering  to  listen  to,  was  no  more  than  I had  already 
learned  from  some  brother  officers  who  knew  this  quarter,  and 
who  informed  me  that  the  Earl  of  Callonby,  though  only  visit- 
ing his  Irish  estates  every  three  or  four  years,  never  took  the 
slightest  notice  of  any  of  the  military  in  his  neighborhood  ; nor, 
indeed,  did  he  mix  with  the  country  gentry,  confining  himself  to 
his  own  family,  or  the  guests,  who  usually  accompanied  him 
from  England,  and  remained  during  his  few  weeks’  stay.  My 
impression  of  his  lordship  was  therefore  not  calculated  to  cheer 
my  solitude  by  any  prospect  of  his  rendering  it  lighter. 

The  Earl’s  family  consisted  of  her  ladyship,  an  only  son, 
nearly  of  age,  and  two  daughters  ; the  eldest,  Lady  Jane,  had 
the  reputation  of  being  extremely  beautiful ; and  I remembered 
when  she  came  out  in  London,  only  the  year  before,  hearing 
nothing  but  praises  of  the  grace  and  elegance  of  her  manner 
united  to  the  most  classic  beauty  of  her  face  and  figure.  The 
second  daughter  was  some  years  younger,  and  said  to  be  also 
very  handsome  ; but  as  yet  she  had  not  been  brought  into  so- 
ciety. Of  the  son,  Lord  Kilkee,  I only  heard  that  he  had  been 
a very  gay  fellow  at  Oxford,  where  he  was  much  liked,  and  al- 
though not  particularly  studious,  had  given  evidence  of  talent. 

Such  were  the  few  particulars  I obtained  of  my  neighbors, 
and  thus  little  did  I know  of  those  who  were  so  soon  to  exercise 
a most  important  influence  upon  my  future  life. 

After  some  weeks’  close  confinement,  which,  judging  from 
my  feelings  alone,  I should  have  counted  as  many  years,  I ea- 
gerly seized  the  opportunity  of  the  first  glimpse  of  sunshine  to 
make  a short  excursion  along  the  coast ; I started  early  in  the 
morning,  and  after  a long  stroll  along  the  bold  headlands  of 
Kilkee,  was  returning  late  in  the  evening  to  my  lodgings.  My 
path  lay  across  a wild,  bleak  moor,  dotted  with  low  clumps  of 
furze,  and  not  presenting  on  any  side  the  least  trace  of  habita- 
tion. In  wading  through  the  tangled  bushes,  my  dog  “ Mouche  ” 
started  a hare  ; and  after  a run  “ sharp,  short  and  decisive,” 
killed  her  at  the  bottom  of  a little  glen  some  hundred  yards  oil. 

I was  just  patting  my  dog  and  examining  the  prize,  when  I 
heard  a crackling  among  the  low  bushes  near  me  : and  on  look- 
ing  up,  perceived,  about  twenty  paces  distant,  a short,  thick-set 
man,  whose  fustian  jacket  and  leathern  gaiters  at  once  pro- 
nounced him  the  gamekeeper  ; he  stood  leaning  upon  his  gun, 
quietly  awaiting,  as  it  seemed,  for  any  movement  on  my  part, 
before  he  interfered.  With  one  glance  I detected  how  matters 
stood,  and  immediately  adopting  my  usual  policy  of  “ taking  the 
bull  by  the  horns,”  called  out,  in  a tone  of  very  sufficient  ay* 
thority, — 


20 


HARRY  LORREQUER . 


“ I say,  my  man,  are  you  his  lordship’s  gamekeeper  ? ” 

Taking  off  his  hat,  the  man  approached  me,  and  very  respect- 
fully informed  me  that  he  was. 

“Well,  then,”  said  I,  “present  this  hare  to  his  lordship  with 
my  respects ; here  is  my  card,  and  say  I shall  be  most  happy  to 
wait  on  him  in  the  morning  and  explain  the  circumstance.” 

The  man  took  the  card,  and  seemed  for  some  moments  unde- 
cided how  to  act ; he  seemed  to  think  that  probably  he  might 
be  ill-treating  a friend  of  his  lordship’s  if  he  refused ; and  on 
the  other  hand  might  be  merely  “ jockeyed  ” by  some  bold-faced 
poacher.  Meanwhile  I whistled  my  dog  close  up,  and  hum- 
ming an  air,  with  great  appearance  of  indifference  stepped  out 
homeward.  By  this  piece  of  presence  of  mind  I saved  poor 
“ Mouche ; ” for  I saw  at  a glance  that,  with  true  gamekeeper’s 
law,  he  had  been  destined  to  death  the  moment  he  had  com- 
mitted the  offence. 

The  following  morning,  as  I sat  at  breakfast,  meditating  upon 
the  events  of  the  preceding  day,  and  not  exactly  determined 
how  to  act,  whether  to  write  to  his  lordship  explaining  how  the 
matter  occurred,  or  call  personally,  a loud  rattling  on  the  pave- 
ment drew  me  to  the  window.  As  the  house  stood  at  the  end 
of  a street,  I could  not  see  in  the  direction  the  noise  came ; but 
as  I listened  a very  handsome  tandem  turned  the  corner  of  the 
narrow  street,  and  came  along  towards  the  hotel  at  a long,  sling 
trot ; the  horses  were  dark  chestnuts,  well-matched  and  showing 
a deal  of  blood.  The  carriage  was  a dark  drab,  with  black 
wheels  ; the  harness  all  of  the  same  color.  The  whole  turn-out 
— and  I was  an  amateur  of  that  sort  of  thing — was  perfect ; the 
driver,  for  I come  to  him  last,  as  he  was  the  last  I looked  at, 
was  a fashionable-looking  young  fellow,  plainly,  but  knowingly, 
dressed,  and  evidently  handling  the  “ ribbons  ” like  an  experi- 
enced whip. 

After  bringing  his  nags  up  to  the  inn  door  in  very  pretty  style, 
he  gave  the  reins  to  his  servant,  and  got  down.  Before  I was 
well  aware  of  it,  the  door  of  my  room  opened,  and  the  gentleman 
entered  with  a certain  easy  air  of  good  breeding,  and  saying, — 

“ Mr.  Lorrequer,  I presume,”  introduced  himself  as  Lord 
Kilkee. 

I immediately  opened  the  conversation  by  an  apology  for  my 
dog’s  misconduct  on  the  day  before,  and  assured  his  lordship 
that  I knew  the  value  of  a hare  in  a hunting  country,  and  was 
really  sorry  for  the  circumstance. 

“ Then  I must  say,”  replied  his  lordship,  “ Mr.  Lorrequer  is 
the  only  person  who  regrets  the  matter ; for  had  it  not  been  for 
this,  it  is  more  than  probable  we  should  never  have  known  we 


DE  TA  CHMENT  D UTY.  31 

were  so  near  neighbors  ; in  fact,  nothing  could  equal  our  amaze- 
ment at  hearing  you  were  playing  the  4 Solitaire  * down  here. 
You  must  have  found  it  dreadfully  heavy,  4 and  have  thought  us 
downright  savages/  But  then  I must  explain  to  you,  that  my 
father  has  made  some  4 rule  absolute  ’ about  visiting  when  down 
here.  And  though  I know  you’ll  not  consider  it  a compliment, 
yet  I can  assure  you  there  is  not  another  man  I know  of  he 
would  pay  attention  to,  but  yourself.  He  made  two  efforts  to 
get  here  this  morning,  but  the  gout  4 would  not  be  denied,’  and 
so  he  deputed  a most  inferior  4 diplomate  ; ’ and  now  will  you  let 
me  return  with  some  character  from  my  first  mission,  and  inform 
my  friends  that  you  will  dine  with  us  to  day  at  seven — a mere 
family  party ; but  make  your  arrangements  to  stop  all  night  and 
to-morrow : we  shall  find  some  work  for  my  friend  there  on  the 
hearth  ; what  do  you  call  him,  Mr.  Lorrequer  ? ” 

44  4 Mouche  ’ — come  here,  4 Mouche.’  ” 

44  Ah,  ‘ Mouche,’  come  here,  my  fine  fellow — a splendid  dog, 
indeed  ; very  tall  for  a thoroughbred  ; and  now  you’ll  not  forget, 
seven,  4 temps  militaire,’  and  so,  sans  adieu.” 

And  with  these  words  his  lordship  shook  me  heartily  by  the 
hand  ; and  before  two  minutes  had  elapsed,  had  wrapped  his 
box-coat  once  more  across  him,  and  was  round  the  corner. 

I looked  for  a few  moments  on  the  again  silent  street,  and 
was  almost  tempted  to  believe  I was  in  a dream,  so  rapidly  had 
the  preceding  moments  passed  over ; and  so  surprised  was  I to 
find  that  the  proud  Earl  of  Callonby,  who  never  did  the  4*  civil 
thing”  anywhere,  should  think  proper  to  pay  attention  to  a poor 
sub.  in  a marching  regiment,  whose  only  claim  on  his  acquaint- 
ance was  the  suspicion  of  poaching  on  his  manor.  I repeated 
over  and  over  all  his  lordship’s  most  polite  speeches,  trying  to 
solve  the  mystery  of  them  ; but  in  vain  : a thousand  explanations 
occurred,  but  none  of  them  I felt  at  all  satisfactory ; that  there 
was  some  mystery  somewhere,  I had  no  doubt ; for  I remarked 
all  through  that  Lord  Kilkee  laid  some  stress  upon  my  identity, 
and  even  seemed  surprised  at  my  being  in  such  banishment. 
44  Oh,”  thought  I,  at  last,  44  his  lordship  is  about  to  get  up  private 
theatricals,  and  has  seen  my  Captain  Absolute,  or  perhaps  my 
Hamlet  ” — I could  not  say  44  Othello  ” even  to  myself — 44  and  is 
anxious  to  get  4 such  unrivalled  talent  ’ even  4 for  one  night 
only.’  ” 

After  many  guesses  this  seemed  the  nearest  I could  think  of ; 
and  by  the  time  I had  finished  my  dressing  for  dinner,  it  was 
quite  clear  to  me  I had  solved  all  the  secret  of  his  lordship’s 
attentions. 

The  ro-a-d  to  44  Callonby  ” was  beautiful  beyond  anything  I had 


22 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


ever  seen  in  Ireland.  For  upwards  of  two  miles  it  led  along 
the  margin  of  some  lofty  cliffs,  now  jutting  out  into  bold  prom- 
ontories, and  again  retreating,  and  forming  small  bays  and 
mimic  harbors,  into  which  the  heavy  swell  of  the  broad  Atlantic 
was  rolling  its  deep  blue  tide.  The  evening  was  perfectly  calm, 
and  at  a little  distance  from  the  shore  the  surface  of  the  sea  was 
without  a ripple.  The  only  sound  breaking  the  solemn  stillness 
of  the  hour  was  the  heavy  plash  of  the  waves,  as  in  minute  peals 
they  rolled  in  upon  the  pebbly  beach,  and  brought  back  with 
them,  at  each  retreat,  some  of  the  larger  and  smoother  stones, 
whose  noise,  as  they  fell  back  into  old  Ocean’s  bed,  mingled 
with  the  din  of  the  breaking  surf.  In  one  of  the  many  little 
bays  I passed  lay  three  or  four  fishing  smacks.  The  sails  were 
drying,  and  flapped  lazily  against  the  mast.  I could  see  the  fig- 
ures of  the  men  as  they  passed  backwards  and  forwards  upon 
the  decks,  and  although  the  height  was  nearly  eight  hundred  feet, 
could  hear  their  voices  quite  distinctly.  Upon  the  golden  strand, 
which  was  still  marked  with  a deeper  tint,  where  the  tide  had 
washed,  stood  a little  white  cottage  of  some  fishermen — at  least, 
so  the  net  before  the  door  bespoke  it.  Around  it  stood  some 
children,  whose  merry  voices  and  laughing  tones  sometimes 
reached  me  where  I was  standing.  I could  not  but  think,  as  I 
looked  down  from  my  lofty  eyrie  upon  that  little  group  of  boats 
and  that  lone  hut,  how  much  of  the  “ world,”  to  the  humble 
dwellers  beneath,  lay  in  that  secluded  and  narrow  bay.  There, 
the  deep  sea,  where  their  days  were  passed  in  “ storm  or  sun- 
shine,”— there,  the  humble  home,  where  at  night  they  rested, 
and  around  whose  hearth  lay  all  their  cares  and  all  their  joys. 
How  far,  how  very  far  removed  from  the  busy  haunts  of  men, 
and  all  the  struggles  and  contentions  of  the  ambitious  world ; 
and  yet,  how  short-sighted  to  suppose  that  even  they  had  not 
their  griefs  and  sorrows,  and  that  their  humble  lot  was  devoid  of 
the  inheritance  of  those  woes  which  all  are  heirs  to. 

I turned  reluctantly  from  the  sea-shore  to  enter  the  gate  of 
the  park,  and  my  path  in  a few  moments  was  as  completely 
screened  from  all  prospect  of  the  sea,  as  though  it  had  lain 
miles  inland.  An  avenue  of  tall  and  ancient  lime-trees,  so  dense 
in  their  shadows  as  nearly  to  conceal  the  road  beneath,  led  for 
above  a mile  through  a beautiful  lawn,  whose  surface,  gently 
undulating,  and  studded  with  young  clumps,  was  dotted  over 
with  sheep.  At  length,  descending  by  a very  steep  road,  I 
reached  a beautiful  little  stream,  over  which  a rustic  bridge  was 
thrown.  As  I looked  down  upon  the  rippling  stream  beneath, 
on  the  surface  of  which  the  dusky  evening  flies  were  dipping,  I 
made  a resolve,  if  I prospered  in  his  lordship’s  good  graces,  to 


DETACHMENT  DUTY. 


n 


devote  a day  to  the  “ angle  ” there,  before  I left  the  country. 
It  was  now  growing  late,  and  remembering  Lord  Kilkee’s  inti- 
mation of  “ sharp  seven,”  I threw  my  reins  over  my  cob  “ Sir 
Roger’s  ” neck  (for  I had  hitherto  been  walking),  and  cantered 
up  the  steep  hill  before  me.  When  I reached  the  top,  I found 
myself  upon  a broad  table-land,  encircled  by  old  and  well- 
grown  timber,  and  at  a distance,  most  tastefully  half  concealed 
by  ornamental  planting,  I could  catch  some  glimpse  of  Cal- 
lonby.  Before,  however,  I had  time  to  look  about  me,  I heard 
the  tramp  of  horses’  feet  behind,  and  in  another  moment  two 
ladies  dashed  up  the  steep  behind,  and  came  towards  me,  at  a 
smart  gallop,  followed  by  a groom,  who,  neither  himself  nor  his 
horse,  seemed  to  relish  the  pace  of  his  fair  mistresses.  I 
moved  off  the  road  into  the  grass  to  permit  them  to  pass  ; but 
no  sooner  had  they  got  abreast  of  me,  than  Sir  Roger,  anxious 
for  a fair  start,  flung  up  both  heels  at  once,  pricked  up  his  ears, 
and  with  a plunge  that  very  nearly  threw  me  from  the  saddle, 
set  off  at  top  speed.  My  first  thought  was  for  the  ladies  beside 
me,  and,  to  my  utter  horror,  I now  saw  them  coming  along  in 
full  gallop;  their  horses  had  got  off  the  road,  and  were,  to  my 
thinking,  become  quite  unmanageable.  I endeavored  to  pull 
up,  but  all  in  vain.  Sir  Roger  had  got  the  bit  between  his 
teeth,  a favorite  trick  of  his,  and  I was  perfectly  powerless  to 
hold  him.  By  this  time,  they  being  mounted  on  thoroughbreds, 
got  a full  neck  before  me,  and  the  pace  was  now  tremendous: 
on  we  all  came,  each  horse  at  his  utmost  stretch.  They  were 
evidently  gaining  from  the  better  stride  of  their  cattle,  and  will 
it  be  believed,  or  shall  I venture  to  acknowledge  it  in  these  my 
Confessions,  that  I,  who  a moment  before  would  have  given  my 
best  chance  of  promotion  to  be  able  to  pull  in  my  horse,  would 
now  have  “ pledged  my  dukedom  ” to  be  able  to  give  Sir  Roger 
one  cut  of  the  whip  unobserved.  I leave  it  to  the  wise  to  de- 
cipher the  rationale,  but  such  is  the  fact.  It  was  complete 
steeple-chasing,  and  my  blood  was  up. 

On  we  came,  and  I now  perceived  that  about  two  hundred 
yards  before  me  stood  an  iron  gate  and  piers,  without  any  hedge 
or  wall  on  either  side  ; before  I could  conjecture  the  meaning 
of  so  strange  a thing  in  the  midst  of  a large  lawn,  I saw  the 
foremost  horse,  now  two  or  three  lengths  before  the  other,  still 
in  advance  of  me,  take  two  or  three  short  strides,  and  fly  about 
eight  feet  over  a sunk  fence — the  second  followed  in  the  same 
style,  the  riders  sitting  as  steadily  as  in  the  gallop.  It  was  now 
my  turn,  and  I confess,  as  I neared  the  dyke,  I heartily  wished 
myself  well  over  it,  for  the  very  possibility  of  a “ mistake  ” was 
maddening.  Sir  Roger  came  on  at  a slapping  pace,  and  when 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


§4 

within  two  yards  of  the  brink,  rose  to  it,  and  cleared  it  like  a 
deer.  By  the  time  I had  accomplished  this  feat,  not  the  less  to 
my  satisfaction  that  both  ladies  had  turned  in  their  saddles  to 
watch  me,  they  were  already  far  in  advance  ; they  held  on  still 
at  the  same  pace,  round  a small  copse  which  concealed  them  an 
instant  from  my  view,  and  which,  when  I passed,  I perceived 
that  they  had  just  reached  the  hall  door,  and  were  dismounting. 

On  the  steps  stood  a tall,  elderly-looking,  gentlemanlike  per- 
son, who,  I rightly  conjectured,  was  his  lordship.  I heard  him 
laughing  heartily  as  I came  up.  I at  last  succeeded  in  getting 
Sir  Roger  to  a canter,  and  when  a few  yards  from  where  the  group 
were  standing,  sprang  off,  and  hastened  up  to  make  my  apolo- 
gies as  I best  might  for  my  unfortunate  runaway.  I was  luckily 
spared  the  awkwardness  of  an  explanation,  for  his  lordship,  ap- 
proaching me  with  his  hand  extended,  said, — 

“ Mr.  Lorrequer  is  most  welcome  at  Callonby.  I cannot  be 
mistaken,  I am  sure — I have  the  pleasure  of  addressing  the 
nephew  of  my  old  friend  Sir  Guy  Lorrequer  of  Elton.  I am  in- 
deed most  happy  to  see  you,  and  not  the  less  so,  that  you  are 
safe  and  sound,  which,  five  minutes  since,  I assure  you  I had 
my  fears  for.” 

Before  I could  assure  his  lordship  that  my  fears  were  all  for 
my  competitors  in  the  race — for  such  in  reality  they  were — he 
introduced  me  to  the  two  ladies,  who  were  still  standing  beside 
him — “Lady  Jane  Callonby;  Mr  Lorrequer;  Lady  Catherine.” 
“ Which  of  you,  young  ladies,  may  I ask,  planned  this  ‘ esca- 
pade,’ for  I see  by  your  looks  it  was  no  accident?” 

“I  think,  papa,”  said  Lady  Jane,  “you  must  question  Mr. 
Lorrequer  on  that  head  ; he  certainly  started  first.” 

“ I confess,  indeed,”  said  I,  “such  was  the  case.” 

“ Well,  you  must  confess,  too,  you  were  distanced,”  said  Lady 
Jane. 

His  lordship  laughed  heartily,  and  I joined  in  his  mirth,  feel- 
ing at  the  same  time  most  terribly  provoked  to  be  quizzed  on 
such  a matter ; that  I,  a steeple-chase  horseman  of  the  first 
water,  should  be  twitted  by  a couple  of  young  ladies,  on  the 
score  of  a most  manly  exercise.  “ But  come,”  said  his  lordship, 
“ the  first  bell  has  rung  long  since,  and  I am  longing  to  ask  Mr. 
Lorrequer  all  about  my  old  college  friend  of  forty  years  ago. 
So,  ladies,  hasten  your  toilet,  I beseech  you.” 

With  these  words,  his  lordship,  taking  my  arm,  led  me  into 
the  drawing-room,  where  we  had  not  been  many  minutes  till  we 
were  joined  by  her  ladyship,  a tall,  stately,  handsome  woman,  of 
a certain  age  ; resolutely  bent  upon  being  both  young  and  beau- 
tiful, in  spite  of  time  and  wrinkles  ; her  reception  of  me,  though 


LIFE  AT  CALLONBY. 


25 


not  possessing  the  frankness  of  his  lordship,  was  still  very  polite, 
and  intended  to  be  even  gracious.  I now  found  by  the  reiterated 
inquiries  for  my  old  uncle,  Sir  Guy,  that  he  it  was,  and  not  Ham- 
let, to  whom  I owed  my  present  notice,  and  I must  include  it 
among  my  Confessions,  that  it  was  about  the  first  advantage  I 
ever  derived  from  the  relationship.  After  half  an  hour’s  agree- 
able chatting,  the  ladies  entered,  and  then  I had  time  to  remark 
the  extreme  beauty  of  their  appearance ; they  were  both  won* 
derfully  like,  and  except  that  Lady  Jane  was  taller  and  more 
womanly,  it  would  have  been  almost  impossible  to  discriminate 
between  them. 

Lady  Jane  Callonby  was  then  about  twenty  years  of  age,  rather 
above  the  middle  size,  and  slightly  disposed  towards  embonpoint ; 
her  eye  was  of  the  deepest  and  most  liquid  blue,  and  rendered 
apparently  darker  by  long  lashes  of  the  blackest  jet — for  such 
was  the  color  of  her  hair ; her  nose  slightly,  but  slightly,  deviated 
from  the  straightness  of  the  Greek,  and  her  upper  lip  was  fault- 
less, as  were  her  mouth  and  chin  ; the  whole  lower  part  of  the 
face,  from  the  perfect  repose,  and  from  the  carriage  of  her  head, 
had  certainly  a great  air  of  hauteur,  but  the  extreme  melting 
softness  of  her  eyes  took  from  this,  and  when  she  spoke,  there 
was  a quiet  earnestness  in  her  mild  and  musical  voice,  that  dis- 
armed you  at  once  of  connecting  the  idea  of  self  with  the  speaker ; 
the  word  “fascinating,”  more  than  any  other  I know  of,  conveys 
the  effect  of  her  appearance,  and  to  produce  it,  she  had,  more 
than  any  other  woman  I ever  met,  that  wonderful  gift,  “ Fart  de 
plaireT 

I was  roused  from  my  perhaps  too  earnest,  because  uncon- 
scious gaze,  at  the  lovely  figure  before  me,  by  his  lordship  saying, 
“ Mr.  Lorrequer,  her  ladyship  is  waiting  for  you.”  I accordingly 
bowed,  and  offering  my  arm,  led  her  into  the  dinner-room.  And 
here  I draw  rein  for  the  present,  reserving  for  my  next  chaptei 
— My  Adventures  at  Callonby. 


CHAPTER  III. 

LIFE  AT  CALLONBY — LOVE-MAKING — MISS  o’dOWD’s  ADVENTURE. 

My  first  evening  at  Callonby  passed  off  as  nearly  all  first 
evenings  do  everywhere.  His  lordship  was  most  agreeable, 
talked  much  of  my  uncle,  Sir  Guy,  whose  fag  he  had  been  at 
Eton  half  a century  before,  promised  me  some  capital  shooting 
in  his  preserves,  discussed  the  state  of  politics ; and,  as  the 


26 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


second  decanter  of  port  “ waned  apace, ” grew  wondrous  confi- 
dential, and  told  me  of  his  intention  to  start  his  son  for  the 
county  at  the  next  general  election,  such  being  the  object 
which  had  now  conferred  the  honor  of  his  presence  on  his 
Irish  estates. 

Her  ladyship  was  most  condescendingly  civil ; vouchsafed 
much  tender  commiseration  for  my  “ exile,”  as  she  termed  my 
quarters  in  Kilrush  ; wondered  how  I could  possibly  exist  in 
a marching  regiment  (who  had  never  been  in  the  cavalry  in  my 
life  !)  ; spoke,  quite  feelingly  of  my  kindness  in  the  joining  their 
stupid  family  party,  for  they  were  living,  to  use  her  own  phrase, 
“ like  hermits  ; ” and  wound  up  all  by  a playful  assurance  that  as 
she  perceived,  from  all  my  answers,  that  I was  bent  on  pre- 
serving a strict  incognito,  she  would  tell  no  tales  about  me  on 
her  return  to  “ Town.”  Now  it  may  readily  be  believed  that 
all  this  and  many  more  of  her  ladyship’s  allusions  were  a “ Chal- 
dee manuscript  ” to  me ; that  she  knew  certain  facts  of  my 
family  and  relations  was  certain,  but  that  she  had  interwoven 
in  the  humble  web  of  my  history  a very  pretty  embroidery  of 
fiction,  was  equally  so  ; and  while  she  thus  ran  on,  with  innu- 
merable allusions  to  Lady  Marys  and  Lord  Johns,  who  she  pre- 
tended to  suppose  were  dying  to  hear  from  me,  I could  not 
help  muttering  to  myself,  with  good  Christopher  Sly,  “ An  all 
this  be  true — then,  Lord,  be  thanked  for  my  good  amends  ; ” 
for  up  to  that  moment  I was  an  ungrateful  man  for  all  such 
high  and  noble  solicitude.  One  dark  doubt  shot  for  an  instant 
across  my  brain.  Mayhap  her  ladyship  had  “ registered  a vow  ” 
never  to  syllable  a name  unchronicled  by  Debrett,  or  was  actu- 
ally only  mystifying  me  for  mere  amusement.  A minute’s  con- 
sideration dispelled  this  fear  ; for  I found  myself  treated  en  seig- 
neur by  the  whole  family.  As  for  the  daughters  of  the  house, 
nothing  could  possibly  be  more  engaging  than  their  manner. 
The  eldest,  Lady  Jane,  was  pleased,  from  my  near  relationship 
to  her  father’s  oldest  friend,  to  receive  me,  “ from  the  first,”  on 
the  most  friendly  footing,  while,  with  the  younger,  Lady  Cathe- 
rine, from  her  being  less  reserved  than  her  sister,  my  progress 
was  even  greater ; and  thus,  before  we  separated  for  the  night, 
I contrived  to  “ take  up  my  position  ” in  such  a fashion  as  to 
be  already  looked  upon  as  one  of  the  family  party,  to  which  ob- 
ject Lord,  and  indeed  Lady,  Collonby  seemed  most  willing  to 
contribute,  and  made  me  promise  to  spend  the  entire  of  the  fol- 
lowing day  at  Callonby,  and  as  many  of  the  succeeding  ones  as 
my  military  duties  would  permit. 

As  his  lordship  was  wishing  me  “ good-night  ” at  the  door 
of  the  drawing-room,  he  said,  in  a half-whisper, — 


LIFE  AT  CALL  OAF  V. 


2 1 


u We  were  ignorant  yesterday,  Mr.  Lorrequer,  how  soon  we 
should  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  here  ; and  you  are  there- 
fore condemned  to  a small  room  off  the  library,  it  being  the  only 
one  we  can  insure  you  as  being  well  aired.  I must  therefore 
apprise  you  that  you  are  not  to  be  shocked  at  finding  yourself 
surrounded  by  every  member  of  my  family  hung  up  in  frames 
around  you.  But  as  the  room  is  usually  my  own  snuggery,  I 
have  resigned  it  without  any  alteration  whatever.” 

The  apartment  for  which  his  lordship  had  so  strongly  apolo- 
gized,.stood  in  very  pleasing  contrast  to  my  late  one  in  Kilrush. 
The  soft  Persian  carpet,  on  which  one’s  feet  sank  to  the  very 
ankles  ; the  brightly  polished  dogs,  upon  which  a blazing  wood 
fire  burned  ; the  well  upholstered  fauteuils  which  seemed  to  in- 
vite sleep  without  the  trouble  of  lying  down  for  it;  and  last 
of  all,  the  ample  and  luxurious  bed,  upon  whose  rich  purple 
hangings  the  ruddy  glare  of  the  fire  threw  a most  mellow  light, 
were  all  a pleasing  exchange  for  the  garniture  of  the  “ Hotel 
Healy.” 

“ Certes,  Harry  Lorrequer,”  said  I,  as  I threw  myself  upon  a 
small  ottoman  before  the  fire,  in  all  the  slippered  ease  and 
abandon  of  a man  who  has  changed  a dress-coat  for  a morn- 
ing  gown, — “ certes,  thou  art  destined  for  great  things  ; even 
here,  where  fate  had  seemed  ‘ to  do  its  worst  ’ to  thee,  a little 
paradise  opens,  and  what,  to  ordinary  mortals,  had  proved 
but  a ‘ flat,  stale,  and  most  unprofitable  ’ quarter,  presents  to 
thee  all  the  accumulated  delight  of  an  hospitable  mansion,  a 
kind,  almost  friendly,  host,  a condescending  Madame  Mere, 
and  daughters  too ! ah,  ye  Gods ! But  what  is  this  ? ” And 
here  for  the  first  time  lifting  up  my  eyes,  I perceived  a beau- 
tiful water-color  drawing  in  the  style  of  “ Chalon,”  which  was 
placed  above  the  chimney-piece.  I rose  at  once,  and  taking 
a candle,  proceeded  to  examine  it  more  minutely.  It  was  a 
portrait  of  Lady  Jane,  a full-length  too,  and  wonderfully  like; 
there  was  more  complexion,  and  perhaps  more  roundness  of 
the  figure  than  her  present  appearance  would  justify*,  but  if 
anything  was  gained  in  brilliancy,  it  was  certainly  lost  in  point 
of  expression,  and  I infinitely  preferred  her  pale,  but  beauti- 
fully fair  countenance,  to  the  rosy  cheek  of  the  picture.  The 
figure  was  faultless  ; the  same  easy  grace  the  result  of  perfect 
symmetry  and  refinement  together,  which  only  one  in  a thou- 
sand of  handsome  girls  possess,  was  portrayed  to  the  life. 
The  more  I looked,  the  more  I felt  charmed  with  it.  Never 
had  I seen  anything  so  truly  characteristic  as  this  sketch,  for 
it  was  scarcely  more.  It  was  after  nearly  an  hour’s  quiet 
contemplation  that  I began  to  remember  the  lateness  of  the 


2§ 


HARRY  L ORREQ UER. 


night,  an  hour  in  which  my  thoughts  had  rambled  from  the 
lovely  object  before  me  to  wonder  at  the  situation  in  which  I 
found  myself  placed  ; for  there  was  so  much  of  “ attention  ” 
towards  me,  in  the  manner  of  every  member  of  the  family, 
coupled  with  certain  mistakes  as  to  my  habits  and  acquaint- 
ances, as  left  me  perfectly  unable  to  unravel  the  mystery  which 
so  evidently  surrounded  me.  “ Perhaps,”  thought  I,  “ Sir 
Guy  has  written  in  my  behalf  to  his  lordship.  Oh,  he  would 
never  do  anything  half  so  civil.  Well,  to  be  sure,  I shall 
astonish  them  at  head-quarters:  they’ll  not  believe  this.  I 
wonder  if  Lady  Jane  saw  my  4 Hamlet ; ’ for  they  landed  in 
Cork  from  Bristol  about  that  time.  She  is  indeed  a most  beau- 
tiful girl.  I wish  I were  a marquis,  if  it  were  only  for  her  sake. 
Well,  my  Lord  Callonby,  you  may  be  a very  wise  man  in  the 
House  of  Lords  ; but  I would  just  ask,  is  it  exactly  prudent  to 
introduce  into  your  family,  on  terms  of  such  perfect  intimacy, 
a young,  fascinating,  well-looking  fellow,  of  four-and-twenty, 
albeit  only  a subaltern,  with  two  such  daughters  as  you  have  ? 
Peut-etre ! One  thing  is  certain — I have  no  cause  of  com- 
plaint; and  so  good-night,  Lady  Jane.”  And  with  these  words 
I fell  asleep  to  dream  of  the  deepest  blue  eyes,  and  the 
most  melting  tones  that  ever  reduced  a poor  lieutenant  in  a 
marching  regiment  to  curse  his  fate  that  he  could  not  call  the 
Commander  of  the  Forces  his  father. 

When  I descended  to  the  breakfast-room,  I found  the  whole 
family  assembled  in  a group  around  Lord  Kilkee,  who  had 
just  returned  from  a distant  part  of  the  county,  where  he  had 
been  canvassing  the  electors,  and  spouting  patriotism  the  day 
before.  He  was  giving  an  account  of  his  progress  with  much 
spirit  and  humor  as  I entered,  but  on  seeing  me,  immediately 
came  forward  and  shook  hands  with  me  like  an  old  acquaint- 
ance. By  Lord  Callonby  and  the  ladies  I was  welcomed  also 
with  much  courtesy  and  kindness,  and  some  slight  badinage 
passed  upon  my  sleeping  in  what  Lord  Kilkee  called  the 
“ Picture  Gallery,”  which,  for  all  I knew  to  the  contrary, 
contained  but  one  fair  portrait.  I am  not  a believer  in  Mes- 
mer;  but  certainly  there  must  have  been  some  influence  at 
work  very  like  what  we  hear  of  in  magnetism — for  before  the 
breakfast  was  concluded,  there  seemed  at  once  to  spring  up  a 
perfect  understanding  between  this  family  and  myself,  which 
made  me  feel  as  much  chez  moi  as  I had  ever  done  in  my  life ; 
and  from  that  hour  I may  date  an  intimacy  which  every  suc- 
ceeding day  but  served  to  increase. 

After  breakfast,  Lord  Callonby  consigned  me  to  the  guid- 
ance of  his  son,  and  we  sallied  forth  to  deal  destruction 


LIFE  AT  CALLONBY. 


2* 

amongst  the  pheasants,  with  which  the  preserves  were  stocked ; 
and  here  I may  observe,  en  passant , that  with  the  single  ex- 
ception of  fox-hunting,  which  was  ever  a passion  with  me,  I 
never  could  understand  that  inveterate  pursuit  of  game  to 
which  some  men  devote  themselves — thus,  grouse-shooting,  and 
its  attendant  pleasures,  of  stumping  over  a boggy  mountain 
from  daylight  till  dark,  never  had  much  attraction  for  me  ; and 
as  to  the  delights  of  widgeon  and  wild-duck  shooting,  when 
purchased  by  sitting  up  all  night  in  a barrel,  with  your  eye  to 
the  bung,  I’ll  none  of  it — no,  no  ! give  me  shooting  or  angling 
merely  as  a divertimento , a pleasant  interlude  between  break- 
fast and  luncheon-time,  when  consigning  your  Manton  to  a 
corner,  and  the  gamekeeper  “ to  the  dogs,”  you  once  more 
humanize  your  costume  to  take  a canter  with  the  daughters  of 
the  house  ; or,  if  the  day  look  loweringly,  a match  of  billiards 
with  the  men. 

I have  ever  found  that  the  happiest  portions  of  existence  are 
the  most  difficult  to  chronicle.  We  may— nay,  we  must,  impart 
our  miseries  and  annoyances  to  our  many  “ dear  friends,”  whose 
forte  is  sympathy  or  consolation — and  all  men  are  eloquent  on 
the  subject  of  their  woes  ; not  so  with  their  joys  : some  have  a 
miser-like  pleasure  in  hoarding  them  up  for  their  own  private 
gratification  : others — and  they  are  prudent — feel  that  the  nar- 
rative is  scarcely  agreeable  even  to  their  best  friends ; and  a 
few,  of  whom  I confess  myself  one,  are  content  to  be  happy 
without  knowing  why,  and  to  have  pleasant  souvenirs  without 
being  able  to  explain  them. 

Such  must  be  my  apology  for  not  more  minutely  entering 
- upon  an  account  of  my  life  at  Callonby.  A fortnight  had  now 
seen  me  enfonce , the  daily  companion  of  two  beautiful  girls  in 
all  their  walks  and  rides,  through  a romantic,  unfrequented 
country,  seeing  but  little  of  the  other  members  of  the  family ; 
the. gentlemen  being  entirely  occupied  with  their  election  tactics, 
and  Lady  Callonby  being  a late  riser,  seldom  appeared  before 
the  dinner  hour.  There  was  not  a cliff  on  the  bold  and  rocky 
coast  we  did  not  climb,  not  a cave  upon  the  pebbly  beach  un- 
visited ; sometimes  my  fair  companions  would  bring  a volume 
of  Metastasio  down  to  the  little  river  where  I used  to  angle ; 
and  the  “ gentle  craft”  was  often  abandoned  for  the  heart- 
thrilling  verses  of  that  delightful  poet.  Yes,  many  years  have 
passed  over,  and  these  scenes  are  still  as  fresh  in  my  memory 
as  though  they  had  been  of  yesterday.  In  my  memory,  I sayt 
“ as  for  thee,” 

“ Chi  sa  se  mai 
Ti  sovverrai  di  me?  ” 


3<> 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


At  the  end  of  three  weeks  the  house  became  full  of  company, 
from  the  garret  to  the  cellar.  Country  gentlemen  and  their 
wives  and  daughters  came  pouring  in,  on  every  species  of  con- 
veyance known  since  the  Flood ; family  coaches,  which,  but  for 
their  yellow  panels,  might  have  been  mistaken  for  hearses,  and 
high  barouches,  the  ascent  to  which  was  accomplished  by  a step- 
ladder,  followed  each  other  in  what  appeared  a never-ending 
succession  ; and  here  I may  note  an  instance  of  the  anomalous 
character  of  the  conveyances,  from  an  incident  to  which  I was 
a witness  at  the  time. 

Among  the  visitors  on  the  second  day  came  a maiden  lady 
from  the  neighborhood  of  Ennistimon,  Miss  Elizabeth  O’Dowd, 
the  last  of  a very  old  and  highly  respectable  family  in  the 
county,  and  whose  extensive  property,  thickly  studded  with  free- 
holders, was  a strong  reason  for  her  being  paid  every  attention 
in  Lord  Callonby’s  power  to  bestow.  Miss  Betty  O’Dowd — for 
so  she  was  popularly  styled — was  the  very  personification  of  an 
old  maid  ; stiff  as  a ramrod,  and  so  rigid  in  observance  of  the 
proprieties  of  female  conduct,  that,  in  the  estimation  of  the  Clare 
gentry,  Diana  was  a hoyden  compared  to  her. 

Miss  Betty  lived,  a s I have  said,  near  Ennistimon,  and  the 
road  from  thence  to  Callonby  at  the  time  I speak  of — it  was  be- 
fore Mr.  Nimmo — was  as  like  the  bed  of  a mountain  torrent  as 
a respectable  highway ; there  were  holes  that  would  have  made 
a grave  for  any  maiden  lady  within  fifty  miles  ; and  rocks  thickly 
scattered,  enough  to  prove  fatal  to  the  strongest  wheels  that  ever 
issued  from  “ Hutton’s.”  Miss  O’Dowd  knew  this  well — she 
had  upon  one  occasion  been  upset  in  travelling  it — and  a slate- 
colored  silk  dress  bore  the  dye  of  every  species  of  mud  and 
mire  to  be  found  there,  for  many  a year  after,  to  remind  her  of 
her  misfortune,  and  keep  open  the  wound  of  her  sorrow.  When, 
therefore,  the  invitation  to  Callonby  arrived,  a grave  council  of 
war  was  summoned,  to  deliberate  upon  the  mode  of  transit,  for 
the  honor  could  not  be  declined,  coute  qiAil  coute .”  The  chariot 
was  out  of  the  question : Nicholas  declared  it  would  never 
reach  the  “ Moraan  Beg,”  as  the  first  precipice  was  called  ; the 
inside  car  was  long  since  pronounced  unfit  for  hazardous  enter- 
prise ; and  the  only  resource  left,  was  what  is  called,  in  Hiber- 
nian parlance,  a “ low-backed  car,”  that  is,  a car  without  any 
back  whatever ; it  being  neither  more  nor  less  than  the  common 
agricultural  conveyance  of  the  country,  upon  which,  a feather- 
bed being  laid,  the  farmers’  wives  and  daughters  are  generally 
conveyed  to  fairs,  wakes,  and  stations,  etc.  Putting  her  dignity, 
if  not  in  her  pocket,  at  least  wherever  it  could  be  most  easily 
accommodated,  Miss  O’Dowd  placed  her  fair  self,  in  all  the  plen- 


LIFE  AT  CALLONBY . 


3« 


itude  of  her  charms  and  the  grandeur  of  a “ bran-new  green 
silk,”  a “ little  off  the  grass,  and  on  the  bottle  ” (I  love  to  be 
particular),  upon  this  humble  conveyance,  and  set  out  on  her 
way,  if  not  “ rejoicing,”  at  least  consoled  by  Nicholas,  that  “ It 
’id  be  black  dark  when  they  reached  the  house,  and  the  devil  a 
one  ’id  be  the  wiser  than  if  she  came  in  a coach  and  four.” 
Nicholas  was  right ; it  was  perfectly  dark  on  their  arrival  at 
Callonby,  and  Miss  O’Dowd  having  dismounted,  and  shaken  her 
plumage,  a little  crumpled  by  her  half-recumbent  position  for 
eight  miles,  appeared  in  the  drawing-room,  to  receive  the  most 
courteous  attentions  from  Lady  Callonby,  and  from  his  lordship 
the  most  flattering  speeches  for  her  kindness  in  risking  herself 
and  bringing  “ her  horses  ” on  such  a dreadful  road,  and  as- 
sured her  of  his  getting  a presentment  the  very  next  assizes  to 
repair  it, — “ For  we  intend,  Miss  O’Dowd,”  said  he,  “ to  be  most 
troublesome  neighbors  to  you  in  future.” 

The  evening  passed  off  most  happily.  Miss  O’Dowd  was  de- 
lighted with  her  hosts,  whose  character  she  resolved  to  uphold 
in  spite  of  their  reputation  for  pride  and  haughtiness.  Lady 
Jane  sang  an  Irish  melody  for  her,  Lady  Callonby  gave  her  slips 
of  a rose  geranium  she  got  from  the  Princess  Augusta,  and  Lord 
Kilkee  won  her  heart  by  the  performance  of  that  most  graceful 
step  yclept  “ cover  the  buckle,”  in  an  Irish  jig.  But  alas  ! how 
short-lived  is  human  bliss,  for  while  this  estimable  lady  revelled 
in  the  full  enjoyment  of  the  hour,  the  sword  of  Damocles  hung 
suspended  above  her  head  ; in  plain  English,  she  had,  on  arriv- 
ing at  Callonby,  to  prevent  any  unnecessary  scrutiny  into  the 
nature  of  her  conveyance,  ordered  Nicholas  to  be  at  the  door 
punctually  at  eleven  ; and  then,  to  take  an  opportunity  of  quietly 
slipping  open  the  drawing-room  door,  and  giving  her  an  intima- 
tion of  it,  that  she  might  take  her  leave  at  once.  Nicholas  was 
up  to  time,  and  having  disposed  the  conveyance  under  the  shadow 
of  the  porch,  made  his  way  to  the  door  of  the  drawing-room  un- 
seen and  unobserved.  He  opened  it  gently  and  noiselessly, 
merely  sufficient  to  take  a survey  of  the  apartment,  in  which, 
from  the  glare  of  the  lights,  and  the  busy  hum  of  voices,  he  was 
so  bewildered  that  it  was  some  minutes  before  he  recognized  his 
mistress.  At  last  he  perceived  her ; she  was  seated  at  a card- 
table,  playing  whist  with  Lord  Callonby  for  her  partner.  Who 
the  other  players  were,  he  knew  not.  A proud  man  was  Nich- 
olas, as  he  saw  his  mistress  thus  placed,  actually  sitting,  as  he 
afterwards  expressed  it,  “ forenint  the  Lord  ; ” but  his  thoughts 
were  bent  on  other  matters,  and  it  was  no  time  to  indulge  his 
vauntings. 

He  strove  for  some  time  patientlv  to  catch  her  eye,  for  she 


32 


HARRY  LORREQUEA. 


#as  so  situated  as  to  permit  of  this,  but  without  success.  He 
then,  made  a slight  attempt  to  attract  her  attention  by  beckoning 
with  his  finger  all  in  vain.  “ Oh,  murther,”  said  he,  “ what  is 
this  for?  I’ll  have  to  spake  afther  all.,> 

“ Four  by  honors, ” said  his  lordship,  “ and  the  odd  trick. 
Another  double,  I believe,  Miss  O’Dowd.” 

Miss  O’Dowd  nodded  a graceful  assent,  while  a sharp-looking 
old  dowager  at  the  side  of  the  table  called  out,  “ A rubber  of 
four  only,  my  lord ; ” and  now  began  an  explanation  from  the 
whole  party  at  once.  Nicholas  saw  this  was  his  time,  and 
thought  that  in  the  melee,  his  hint  might  reach  his  mistress  unob- 
served by  the  remainder  of  the  company.  He  accordingly  pro- 
truded his  head  into  the  room,  and  placing  his  finger  on  the  side 
of  his  nose,  and  shutting  one  eye  knowingly,  with  an  air  of  great 
secrecy,  whispered  out,  “ Miss  Betty — Miss  Betty,  alanah  ! ” 
For  some  minutes  the  hum  of  the  voices  drowned  his  admoni- 
tions, but  as,  by  degrees  waxing  warmer  in  the  cause,  he  called 
out  more  loudly,  every  eye  was  turned  to  the  spot  from  whence 
these  extraordinary  sounds  proceeded  ; and  certainly  the  appear- 
ance of  Nicholas  at  the  moment  was  well  calculated  to  astonish 
the  company  of  a drawing-room.  With  his  one  eye  fixed  eagerly 
in  the  direction  of  his  mistress,  his  red  scratch  wig  pushed  back 
off  his  forehead,  in  the  eagerness  of  his  endeavor  to  be  heard, 
there  he  stood,  perfectly  unmindful  of  all  around,  save  Miss 
O’Dowd  herself.  It  may  well  be  believed  that  such  an  appari- 
tion could  not  be  witnessed  with  gravity,  and,  accordingly,  a gen- 
eral titter  ran  through  the  room,  the  whist  party,  still  contending 
about  odd  tricks  and  honors,  being  the  only  persons  insensible 
to  the  mirth  around  them.  “Miss  Betty,  arrah,  Miss  Betty,” 
said  Nicholas,  with  a sigh,  that  converted  the  subdued  laughter 
of  the  guests  into  a perfect  burst  of  mirth. 

“ Eh,”  said  his  lordship,  turning  round,  “ what  is  this  ? We 
are  losing  something  excellent,  I fear.” 

At  this  moment,  he  caught  a glimpse  of  Nicholas,  and,  throw- 
ing himself  back  in  his  chair,  laughed  immoderately.  It  was 
now  Mists  Betty’s  turn  ; she  was  about  to  rise  from  the  table, 
when  the  well-known  accents  of  Nicholas  fell  upon  her  ear. 
She  fell  back  in  her  seat — there  he  was  : the  messenger  of  the 
foul  fiend  himself  would  have  been  more  welcome  at  that  mo- 
ment. Her  blood  rushed  to  her  face  and  temples  ; her  hands 
tingled  ; she  closed  her  eyes,  and  when  she  opened  them,  there 
stood  the  accursed  Nicholas  glowering  at  her  still. 

“ Man — man  ! ” said  she  at  length,  “ what  do  you  mean  ? 
What  do  you  want  here  ? ” 

Boor  Nicholas,  little  guessing  that  the  question  was  intended 


BOTANICAL  STUDIES 1 


3.1 


to  throw  a doubt  upon  her  acquaintance  with  him,  and  conceiv* 
ing  that  the  hour  for  the  announcement  had  come,  hesitated  for 
an  instant  how  he  should  designate  the  conveyance.  He  could 
not  call  it  a coach  ! it  certainly  was  not  a buggy — neither  was  it 
a jaunting  car  : what  should  he  say  ! He  looked  earnestly,  and 
even  imploringly,  at  his  mistress,  as  if  to  convey  some  sense  of 
his  difficulty,  and  then,  as  it  were  catching  a sudden  inspira- 
tion, winked  once  more,  as  he  said, — 

“ Miss  Betty — the — the — the ” — and  here  he  looked  in 

describably  droll — “ the  thing  you  know  is  at  the  door.” 

All  his  lordship's  politeness  was  too  little  for  the  occasion, 
and  Miss  O’Dowd’s  tenantry  were  lost  to  the  Callonby  interest 
forever. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

BOTANICAL  STUDIES — THE  NATURAL  SYSTEM  PREFERABLE  TO  THE 

L-INNiEAN. 

“ The  carriage  is  at  the  door,  my  lord,”  said  a servant,  enter- 
ing the  luncheon-room  where  we  were  all  assembled. 

“Now  then,  Mr.  Lorrequer,”  said  Lord  Callonby, allons, 
Hake  another  glass  of  wine,  and  let  us  away.  I expect  you  to 
make  a most  brilliant  speech,  remember  ! ” 

His  lordship  here  alluded  to  our  intention  of  visiting  a re- 
mote barony,  where  a meeting  of  the  freeholders  was  that  day 
to  be  held,  and  at  which  I was  pledged  for  a “ neat  and  appro- 
priate ” oration  in  abuse  of  the  Corn-laws  and  the  Holy  Alliance. 

“ I beg  pardon,  my  lord,”  said  her  ladyship,  in  a most  lan- 
guishing tone  ; “ but  Mr.  Lorrequer  is  pre-engaged  ; he  has  for 
the  last  week  been  promising  and  deferring  his  visit  to  the  new 
conservatory  with  me,  where  he  is  to  find  out  four  or  five  of  the 
Swiss  shrubs  that  Collins  cannot  make  out — and  which  I am 
dying  to  know  all  about.” 

“ Mr.  Lorrequer  is  a false  man  then,”  said  Lady  Catherine, 
“ for  he  said  at  breakfast  that  we  should  devote  this  afternoon 
to  the  chalk  caves,  as  the  tide  will  be  so  far  out  that  we  can  see 
them  all  perfectly.” 

“ And  I,”  said  Lord  Kilkee,  “ must  put  in  my  plea,  that  the 
aforesaid  Mr.  Lorrequer  is  booked  for  a coursing  match — 
‘ Mouche  versus  Jessie.' — Guilty  or  not  guilty  ? ” 

Lady  Jane  alone  of  all  said  not  a word. 

3 


34 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


“ Guilty  on  every  count  of  the  indictment,' ” said  I ; “ I throw 
myself  on  the  mercy  of  the  court.” 

“ Let  his  sentence  then  be  banishment, ” said  Lady  Catherine, 
with  affected  anger,  “ and  let  him  go  with  papa.” 

“ I rather  think,”  said  Lord  Kilkee,  “ the  better  plan  is  to  let 
him  visit  the  conservatory,  for  I’d  wager  a fifty  he  finds  it  more 
difficult  to  invent  botany  than  canvass  freeholders — eh  ? ” 

“I  am  sure,”  said  Lady  Jane,  for  the  first  time  breaking  si- 
lence, “ that  mamma  is  infinitely  flattered  by  the  proposal  that 
Mr.  Lorrequer’s  company  is  to  be  conferred  upon  her  for  her 
sins.” 

“ I am  not  to  be  affronted,  nor  quizzed  out  of  my  chaperon  ; 
here,  Mr.  Lorrequer,”  said  Lady  Callonby,  rising,  “get  Smith’s 
book  there,  and  let  me  have  your  arm ; and  now,  young  ladies, 
come  along,  and  learn  something,  if  you  can.” 

“ An  admirable  proviso,”  said  Lord  Kilkee,  laughing,  “ if 
his  botany  be  only  as  authentic  as  the  autographs  he  gave  Mrs. 
MacDermot,  and  all  of  which  he  wrote  himself,  in  my  dressing- 
room,  in  half  an  hour.  Napoleon  was  the  only  difficult  one  in 
the  number.” 

Most  fortunately  this  unfair  disclosure  did  not  reach  her  lady- 
ship’s ears,  as  she  was  busily  engaged  putting  on  her  bonnet, 
and  I was  yet  unassailed  in  reputation  to  her. 

“ Good-by,  then,”  said  Lord  Callonby  ; “ we  meet  at  seven.” 
And  in  a few  moments  the  little  party  were  scattered  to  their 
several  destinations. 

“ How  very  hot  you  have  this  place,  Collins,”  said  Lady  Cal- 
lonby, as  we  entered  the  conservatory. 

“ Only  seventy-five,  my  lady,  and  the  magnolias  require  heat.” 

I here  dropped  a little  behind,  as  if  to  examine  a plant,  and 
\n  a half-whisper  said  to  Lady  Jane, — 

“ How  came  it  that  you  alone,  Lady  Jane,  should  forget  that 
I had  made  another  appointment  ? I thought  you  wished  to 
make  a sketch  of  Craigmoran  Abbey — did  you  forget  that  we 
were  to  ride  there  to-day  ? ” 

Before  she  could  reply  Lady  Callonby  called  out — “ Oh, 
here  it  is,  Mr.  Lorrequer.  Is  this  a heath  ? that  is  the  ques- 
tion.” 

Here  her  ladyship  pointed  to  a little  scrubby  thing,  that 
looked  very  like  a birch  rod.  I proceeded  to  examine  it  most 
minutely,  while  Collins  waited  with  all  the  intense  anxiety  of  a 
man  whose  character  depended  on  the  sentence. 

“ Collins  will  have  it  a jungermania,”  said  she. 

“ And  Collins  is  right,”  said  I,  not  trusting  myself  with  the 
pronunciation  of  the  awful  word  her  ladyship  uttered. 


BOTANICAL  STUDIES . 


35 


Collins  looked  ridiculously  happy. 

“ Now  that  is  so  delightful,’'  said  Lady  Callonby,  as  she 
stopped  to  look  foi  another  puzzle. 

“ What  a wretch  it  is/’  said  Lady  Catherine,  covering  her 
face  with  a handkerchief. 

“ What  a beautiful  little  dower,”  said  Lady  Jane,  lifting  up 
the  bell  of  a lobelia  splendens. 

“ You  know,  of  course,”  said  I,  “what  they  call  that  flower 
in  France — L’amour  tendre.” 

“ Indeed  ! ” 

“True,  I assure  you;  may  I present  you  with  this  sprig  of 
it  ? ” cutting  off  a small  twig,  and  presenting  it  at  the  same 
instant  unseen  by  the  others. 

She  hesitated  for  an  instant,  and  then  extending  her  fair  and 
taper  hand,  took  it.  I dared  not  look  at  her  as  she  did  so, 
but  a proud  swelling  triumph  at  my  heart  nearly  choked  me. 

“ Now,  Collins/’  said  Lady  Callonby,  “ I cannot  find  the 
Alpen  tree  I brought  from  the  Griindenwald.” 

Collins  hurried  forward  to  her  ladyship’s  side. 

Lady  Catherine  was  also  called  to  assist  in  the  search. 

I was  alone  with  Lady  Jane. 

“Now  or  never,”  thought  I ; I hesitated — I stammered — my 
voice  faltered.  She  saw  my  agitation  ; she  participated  in,  and 
increased  it.  At  last  I summoned  up  courage  to  touch  her 
hand ; she  gently  withdrew  it — but  so  gently,  it  was  not  a re- 
pulse. 

“ If  Lady  Jane,”  said  I at  length — “ if  the  devoted ” 

“ Holloa,  there,”  said  a deep  voice  without,  “ is  Mr.  Lon 
requer  there  ? ” 

It  was  Lord  Kilkee,  returned  from  his  coursing  match.  None 
but  he  who  has  felt  such  an  interruption  can  feel  for  me.  I 
shame  to  say  that  his  brotherhood  to  her,  for  whom  I would  have 
1 perilled  my  life,  restrained  me  not  from  something  very  like  a 
hearty  commendation  of  him  to  the  powers  that 

“ Down,  dogs,  there — down  ! ” continued  he,  and  in  a moment 
after  entered  the  conservatory,  flushed  and  heated  with  the 
chase. 

“ Mouche  is  the  winner — two  to  one — and  so,  Master  Shal- 
low, I owe  you  a thousand  pounds.” 

Would  to  Heaven  that  I had  lost  the  wager,  had  it  only  taken 
a little  longer  to  decide  it ! I of  course  appeared  overjoyed  at 
my  dog’s  success,  and  listened  with  great  pretence  of  interest  to 
the  narrative  of  the  “ run  ; ” the  more  so  because,  that  though 
perhaps  more  my  friend  than  the  older  members  of  the  family, 
Lord  Kilkee  evidently  liked  less  than  them  my  growing  intimacy 


36 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


with  his  sister ; and  I was  anxious  to  blind  him  on  the  present 
occasion,  when,  but  for  his  recent  excitement,  very  little  pene- 
tration would  have  enabled  him  to  detect  that  something  unusu- 
al had  taken  place. 

It  was  now  so  nearly  dark,  that  her  ladyship’s  further  search 
for  the  alpine  treasure  became  impossible,  and  so  we  turned  our 
steps  towards  the  garden,  where  we  continued  to  walk  till 
joined  by  Lord  Callonby.  And  now  began  a most  active  dis- 
cussion upon  agriculture,  rents,  tithes,  and  Toryism,  in  which 
the  ladies  took  but  little  part;  and  I had  the  mortification  to 
perceive  that  Lady  Jane  was  excessively  bored,  and  seized  the 
first  opportunity  to  leave  the  party  and  return  to  the  house ; 
while  her  sister  gave  me  from  time  to  time  certain  knowing 
glances,  as  if  intimating  that  my  knowledge  of  farming  and 
political  economy  were  pretty  much  on  a par  with  my  proficiency 
in  botany. 

“ One  has  discovered  me  at  least,”  thought  I ; but  the  bell 
had  rung  to  dress  for  dinner,  and  I hastened  to  my  room  to 
think  over  future  plans,  and  once  more  wonder  at  the  singular 
position  into  which  fate  and  the  “ rules  of  the  service”  had 
thrown  me. 


CHAPTER  V. 

PUZZLED — EXPLANATION  MAKES  BAD  WORSE — A DUEL. 

“ Any  letters  ? ” said  her  ladyship  to  a servant,  as  she  crossed 
the  hall. 

“ Only  one,  my  lady — for  Mr.  Lorrequer,  I believe.” 

“ For  me  ! ” thought  I ; “ how  is  this  ? ” My  letters  had  been 
hitherto  always  left  in  Kilrush.  Why  was  this  forwarded  here  ? 
I hurried  to  the  drawing-room,  where  I found  a double  letter 
awaiting  me.  The  writing  was  Curzon’s,  and  contained  the 
words  “ To  be  forwarded  with  haste  ” on  the  direction.  I opened 
and  read  as  follows  : 

“ Dear  Lorrequer — Have  you  any  recollection,  among 
your  numerous  ‘escapades’  at  Cork,  of  having  grievously  in- 
sulted a certain  Mr.  Giles  Beamish,  in  thought,  word,  or  deed  ? 
If  you  have,  I say,  let  me  know  with  all  convenient  despatch 
whether  the  offence  be  one  admitting  of  apology — for  if  not, 
the  Lord  have  mercy  on  your  soul — a more  worthy  gentleman 
than  the  aforesaid  it  having  rarely  been  my  evil  fortune  to  fore- 


PUZZLED. 


37 


gather  with.  He  called  here  yesterday  to  inquire  your  address, 
and  at  my  suggestion  wrote  a note  which  I now  enclose.  I 
write  in  great  haste,  and  am  ever  yours  faithfully, 

“ C.  Curzon. 

“ N.  B. — I have  not  seen  his  note,  so  explain  all  and  every- 
thing.” 

The  enclosed  ran  thus  : 

“ Sir, — It  can  scarcely  have  escaped  your  memory,  though 
now  nearly  two  months  since,  that  at  the  Mayor’s  dejeuner  in 
Cork,  you  were  pleased  to  make  merry  at  my  expense,  and  ex- 
pose me  and  my  family  for  your  amusement.  This  is  to  de- 
mand  an  immediate  apology,  or  that  satisfaction  which,  as  an 
officer,  you  will  not  refuse  your  most  obedient  servant, 

“ Giles  Beamish. 

“ Swinburne’s  Hotel.” 

“ Giles  Beamish  ! Giles  Beamish  ! ” said  I,  repeating  the 
name  in  every  variety  of  emphasis,  hoping  to  obtain  some  clue 
to  the  writer.  Had  I been  appointed  the  umpire  between  Dr. 
Wall  and  his  reviewers,  in  the  late  controversy  about  “ Phonetic 
signs,”  I could  not  have  been  more  completely  puzzled  than  by 
the  contents  of  this  note.  “ Make  merry  at  his  expense  ! ” a 
great  offence  truly — I suppose  I have  laughed  at  better  men 
than  ever  he  was  ; and  I can  only  say  of  such  innocent  amuse- 
ment, as  Falstaff  did  of  sack  and  sugar,  if  such  be  a sin,  “ then 
Heaven  help  the  wicked.”  But  I wish  I knew  who  he  is,  or 
what  he  alludes  to,  provided  he  is  not  mad,  which  I begin  to 
think  not  improbable.  “ By  the  bye,  my  lord,  do  you  know  any 
such  person  in  the  south  as  a Mr.  Beamish — Giles  Beamish  ? ” 

“To  be  sure,”  said  Lord  Callonby,  looking  up  from  his  news- 
paper, “there  are  several  of  the  name  of  the  highest  respecta- 
bility. One  is  an  alderman  of  Cork — a very  rich  man,  too — 
but  I don’t  remember  his  Christian  name.” 

“ An  alderman,  did  you  say  ? ” 

“ Yes,  Alderman  Beamish  is  very  well  known.  I have  seen 
him  frequently — a short,  florid,  little  man.” 

“ Oh,  it  must  be  he,”  said  I,  musingly ; “ it  must  have  been 
this  worthy  alderman  from  whose  worshipful  person  I tore  the 
robe  of  office  on  the  night  of  the  fete.  But  what  does  he  mean 
by  4 my  exposing  him  and  his  family  ? ’ Why,  zounds,  his  wife 
and  children  were  not  with  him  on  the  pavement.  Oh,  I see  it ; 
it  is  the  Mansion  House  school  of  eloquence  ; did  not  Sir  Will- 
iam Curtis  apologize  for  not  appearing  at  court  from  having 


38  HARRY  LORKEQUEK. 

lost  an  eye,  which  he  designated  as  an  awful  4 domestic  calam* 
ity  ? ' ” 

It  being  now  settled  to  my  satisfaction  that  Mr.  Beamish  and 
the  great  uncloaked  were  “ convertible  terms,”  I set  about  mak- 
ing the  amende  in  the  most  handsome  manner  possible.  I wrote 
to  the  alderman  a most  pacific  epistle,  regretting  that  my  de- 
parture from  Cork  deprived  me  of  making  reparation  before, 
and  expressing  a most  anxious  hope  that  “ he  caught  no  cold,” 
and  a fervent  wish  that  “he  would  live  many  years  to  grace  and 
ornament  the  dignity  of  which  his  becoming  costume  was  the 
emblem.”  This  I enclosed  in  a note  to  Curzon,  telling  him  how 
the  matter  occurred,  and  requesting  that  he  would  send  it  by 
his  servant,  together  with  the  scarlet  vestment  which  he  would 
find  in  my  dressing-room.  Having  folded  and  sealed  this  de- 
spatch, I turned  to  give  Lord  Callonby  an  account  of  the  busi- 
ness, and  showed  him  Beamish’s  note,  at  which  he  was  greatly 
amused  : and,  indeed,  it  furnished  food  for  mirth  for  the  whole 
party  during  the  evening.  The  next  morning  I set  out  with 
Lord  Callonby  on  the  long-threatened  canvassing  expedition — 
with  the  details  of  which  I need  not  burden  my  “ Confessions.” 
Suffice  it  to  say,  that  when  Lord  Kilkee  was  advocating  Toryism 
in  the  west,  I,  his  accredited  ambassador,  was  devoting  to  the 
infernal  gods  the  prelacy,  the  peerage,  and  the  pension  list- — a 
mode  of  canvass  well  worthy  of  imitation  in  these  troublesome 
times ; for,  not  to  speak  of  the  great  prospect  of  success  from 
having  friends  on  both  sides  of  the  question,  the  principal  can 
always  divest  himself  of  any  unpleasant  consequences  as  regards 
inconsistency,  by  throwing  the  blame  on  his  friend,  “ who  went 
too  far,”  as  the  appropriate  phrase  is. 

Nothing  could  be  more  successful  than  our  mission.  Lord 
Callonby  was  delighted  beyond  bounds  with  the  prospect,  and 
so  completely  carried  away  by  high  spirits,  and  so  perfectly  as- 
sured that  much  of  it  was  owing  to  my  exertions,  that  on  the 
second  morning  of  our  tour — for  we  proceeded  through  the 
country  for  three  days — he  came  laughing  into  my  dressing- 
room,  with  a newspaper  in  his  hand. 

“ Here,  Lorrequer,”  said  he,  “ here’s  news  for  you.  You  cer- 
tainly must  read  this.”  And  he  handed  me  a copy  of  the  Clare 
Herald , with  an  account  of  our  meeting  the  evening  be- 
fore. 

After  glancing  my  eye  rapidly  over  the  routine  usual  in  such 
cases; — Humph,  ha — nearly  two  hundred  people — most  respecta- 
ble farmers — room  appropriately  decorated — “ Callonby  Arms  ” 

— “ after  the  usual  loyal  toasts,  the  chairman  rose  ” Well,  no 

matter.  Ah ! here  it  is ; “ Mr,  Lorrequer  here  addressed  the 


PUZZLED. 


39 


meeting  with  a flow  of  eloquence  it  has  rarely,  if  ever,  been  our 
privilege  to  hear  equalled.  He  began  by  ” — humph 

“Ah,”  said  his  lordship,  impatiently,  “you  will  never  find  it 
out — look  here — 4 Mr.  Lorrequer,  whom  we  have  mentioned  as 
having  made  the  highly  exciting  speech,  to  be  found  in  our  first 
page,  is,  we  understand,  the  son  of  Sir  Guy  Lorrequer,  of  Elton, 
in  Shropshire — one  of  the  wealthiest  baronets  in  England.  If 
rumor  speaks  truly,  there  is  a very  near  prospect  of  an  alli- 
ance between  this  talented  and  promising  young  gentleman,  and 
the  beautiful  and  accomplished  daughter  of  a certain  noble  earl, 
with  whom  he  has  been  for  some  time  domesticated.’  ” 

44  Eh,  what  think  you  ? Son  of  Guy  Lorrequer.  I always 
thought  my  old  friend  a bachelor,  but  you  see  the  Clare  Herald 
knows  better.  Not  to  speak  of  the  last  piece  of  intelligence,  it 
is  very  good,  is  it  not  ? ” 

44  Capital,  indeed,”  said  I,  trying  to  laugh,  and  at  the  same 
time  blushing  confoundedly,  and  looking  as  ridiculous  as  needs 

be. 

It  now  struck  me  forcibly  that  there  was  something  extremely 
odd  in  his  lordship’s  mention  of  this  paragraph,  particularly 
when  coupled  with  his  and  the  Lady  Callonby’s  manner  to  me 
for  the  last  two  months.  They  knew  enough  of  my  family,  evi- 
dently, to  be  aware  of  my  station  and  prospects — or  rather  my 
want  of  both — and  yet,  in  the  face  of  this,  they  not  only  encour- 
aged me  to  prolong  a most  delightful  visit,  but  by  a thousand 
daily  and  dangerous  opportunities,  absolutely  threw  me  in  the 
way  of  one  of  the  loveliest  of  her  sex,  seemingly  without  fear  on 
their  parts.  44  Well  ! ” thought  I,  with  my  old  philosophy, 
44  Time,  that  4 pregnant  old  gentleman,’  will  disclose  all,  and  so, 
let  us  be  patient ! ” 

My  reveries  on  my  good  and  evil  fortune  were  suddenly  in- 
terrupted by  a letter  which  reached  me  that  evening,  having 
been  forwarded  from  Callonby  by  a special  messenger.  44  What ! 
another  epistle  from  Curzon,”  said  I,  as  my  eye  caught  the  ad- 
dress ; and  wondering  not  a little  what  pressing  emergency  had 
called  forth  the  words  on  the  cover — 44  To  be  forwarded  with 
haste” — I eagerly  broke  the  seal  and  read  the  following: 

44  My  Dear  Harry, — I received  yours  on  the  nth,  and  im- 
mediately despatched  your  note  and  the  raiment  to  Mr.  Beamish. 
He  was  from  home  at  the  time,  but  at  eight  o’clock  I was  sent 
for  from  the  mess  to  see  two  gentlemen  on  most  pressing  busi- 
ness. I hurried  to  my  quarters,  and  there  found  the  aforesaid 
Mr.  B.,  accompanied  by  a friend  whom  he  introduced  as  Dr.  de 
Courcy  Finucane,  of  the  North  Cork  Militia — as  warlike-looking 


40 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


a gentleman,  of  his  inches,  some  five  feet  three,  as  you  would 
wish  to  see.  The  moment  I appeared,  both  rose,  and  commenced 
a narrative,  for  such  I judge  it  to  be,  but  so  energetically  and 
so  completely  together,  that  I could  only  bow  politely,  and  at 
last  request  that  one,  or  the  other,  would  inform  me  of  the  ob- 
ject of  their  visit.  Here  began  the  tug  of  war,  the  doctor  say- 
ing, 4 Arrah,  now  Giles  ’ — Mr.  Beamish  interrupting  by  4 Whisht 
I tell  ye — now,  can’t  you  let  me  ? Ye  see,  Mr.  Curzoin  ” — for  so 
they  both  agreed  to  designate  me.  At  last,  completely  worn  out, 
I said,  4 Perhaps  you  have  not  received  my  friend’s  note  ? ’ At 
this  Mr.  Beamish  reddened  to  the  eyes,  and  with  the  greatest  vol- 
ubility poured  forth  a flood  of  indignant  eloquence,  that  I thought 
it  necessary  to  check ; but  in  this  I failed,  for  after  informing 
me  pretty  clearly  that  he  knew  nothing  of  your  story  of  the  al- 
derman, or  his  cloak,  added,  that  he  firmly  believed  your  pre- 
tended reparation  was  only  a renewed  insult,  and  that — but,  in  a 
word,  he  used  such  language,  that  I was  compelled  to  take  him 
short ; and  the  finale  is,  that  I agreed  you  should  meet  him, 
though  still  ignorant  of  what  he  calls  the  4 original  offence.’  But 
Heaven  knows,  his  conduct  here  last  night  demands  a reprimand, 
and  I hope  you  may  give  it ; and  if  you  shoot  him,  we  may  worm 
out  the  secret  from  his  executors.  Nothing  could  exceed  the 
politeness  of  the  parties  on  my  consenting  to  this  arrangement. 
Dr.  Finucane  proposed  Carrigaholt  as  the  rendezvous,  about 
twelve  miles,  I believe,  from  Kilrush,  and  Tuesday  evening,  at 
six,  as  the  time,  which  will  be  the  very  earliest  moment  we  can 
arrive  there.  So,  pray  be  up  to  time,  and  believe  me  yours, 

44  C.  Curzon. 


“ Saturday  Evening.” 


It  was  late  on  Monday  evening  when  this  letter  reached  me, 
and  there  was  no  time  to  be  lost,  as  I was  then  about  forty  Irish 
miles  from  the  place  mentioned  by  Curzon  ; so,  after  briefly  ac- 
quainting Lord  Callonby  that  I was  called  off  by  duty,  I hurried 
to  my  room  to  pack  my  clothes,  and  again  read  over  this  extraor- 
dinary epistle. 

I confess  it  did  appear  something  droll,  how  completely  Cur- 
zon seemed  to  imbibe  the  passion  for  fighting  from  these  44  blood- 
thirsty Irishmen.”  For  by  his  own  showing  he  was  utterly  ig- 
norant of  my  ever  having  offended  this  Mr.  Beamish,  of  whom 
I recollected  nothing  whatever.  Yet,  when  that  gentleman 
waxes  wrothy,  rather  than  inconvenience  him,  or  perhaps  anx- 
ious to  get  back  to  the  mess,  he  coolly  says,  44  Oh,  my  friend 
shall  meet  you,”  and  then  his  pleasant  jest,  “find  out  the  cause 
of  quarrel  from  his  executors  ! ” 


PUZZLED . 


4* 


“ Truly,”  thought  I,  “ there  is  no  equanimity  like  his  who  acts 
as  your  second  in  a duel.  The  gentlemanlike  urbanity  with 
which  he  waits  on  the  opposite  friend — the  conciliating  tone  with 
which  he  proffers  implacable  enmity — the  killing  kindness  with 
which  he  refuses  all  accommodation — the  Talleyrand  air  of  his 
short  notes,  dated  from  the  4 Travellers/  or  4 Brookes/  with  the 
words  three  o’clock  or  five  o’clock  on  the  cover,  all  indicative  of 
the  friendly  precipitancy  of  the  negotiation.  Then,  when  all  is 
settled,  the  social  style  with  which  he  asks  you  to  take  a 4 cutlet  ’ 
with  him  at  the  4 Clarendon/  4 not  to  go  home/  are  only  to  be 
equalled  by  the  admirable  tact  on  the  ground — the  studiously 
elegant  salute  to  the  adverse  party,  half  a la  Napoleon,  and 
half  Beau  Brummell — the  politely  offered  snuff-box — the  coquett- 
ing raillery  about  ten  paces  or  twelve — are  certainly  the  beau 
ideal  of  the  stoicism  which  preludes  sending  your  friend  out  of 
the  world  like  a gentleman.” 

How  very  often  is  the  face  of  external  nature  at  variance  with 
the  thoughts  and  actions — 44  the  sayings  and  doings  ” we  may 
be  most  intent  upon  at  the  moment ! How  many  a gay  and 
brilliant  bridal  party  has  wended  its  way  to  St.  George’s,  Han- 
over Square,  amid  a downpour  of  rain,  one  would  suppose  suffi- 
cient to  quench  the  torch  of  Hymen,  though  it  burned  as  brightly 
as  Captain  Drummond’s  oxygen  light;  and,  on  the  other  hand, 
how  frequently  are  the  bluest  azure  of  heaven  and  the  most 
balmy  airs  shed  upon  the  heart  bursting  with  affliction,  or  the 
head  bowed  with  grief ; and  without  any  desire  to  impugn,  as  a 
much  higher  authority  has  done,  the  moral  character  of  the  moon, 
how  many  a scene  of  blood  and  rapine  has  its  mild  radiance 
illumined ! Such  reflections  as  these  came  thronging  to  my 
mind,  as  on  the  afternoon  of  Tuesday  I neared  the  little  village 
of  our  rendezvous.  The  scene  which  in  all  its  peaceful  beauty 
lay  before  me,  was  truly  a strong  contrast  to  the  occasion  that 
led  me  thither.  I stood  upon  a little  peninsula  which  separates 
the  Shannon  from  the  wide  Atlantic.  On  one  side  the  placid 
river  flowed  on  its  course,  between  fields  of  waving  corn,  or  rich 
pasturage — the  beautiful  island  of  Scattery,  with  its  picturesque 
ruins  reflected  in  the  unrippled  tide — the  cheerful  voices  of  the 
reapers,  and  the  merry  laugh  of  the  children  were  mingled  with 
the  seaman’s  cry  of  the  sailors,  who  were  44  heaving  short  ” on 
their  anchor,  to  take  the  evening  tide.  The  village,  which  con- 
sisted merely  of  a few  small  cabins,  was  still,  from  its  situation, 
a pleasing  object  in  the  picture,  and  the  blue  smoke  that  rose  in 
slender  columns  from  the  humble  dwellings,  took  from  the  scene 
its  character  of  loneliness,  and  suggested  feelings  of  home  and 


42  HA  RR  Y L ORREQ  HER. 

homely  enjoyments,  which  human  habitations,  however  lowly, 
never  fail  to  do. 

“ At  any  other  time,”  thought  I,  “ how  I could  have  enjoyed 
all  this,  but  now — and,  ha,  I find  it  is  already  pas<t  five  o’clock, 
and  if  I am  rightly  informed  I am  still  above  a mile  from  i Car- 
rigaholt,’  where  we  were  to  meet.” 

I had  dismissed  my  conveyance  when  nearing  the  village,  to 
avoid  observation,  and  now  took  a footpath  over  the  hills.  Be- 
fore I had  proceeded  half  a mile,  the  scene  changed  completely. 
I found  myself  traversing  a small  glen,  grown  over  with  a low 
oak  scrub,  and  not  presenting,  on  any  side,  the  slightest  trace  of 
habitation.  I saw  that  the  ground  had  been  selected  by  an 
adept.  The  glen,  which  grew  narrow  as  I advanced,  suddenly 
disclosed  to  my  view  a glimpse  of  the  Atlantic,  upon  which  the 
declining  sun  was  pouring  a flood  of  purple  glory.  I had  scarcely 
turned  from  the  contemplation  of  this  beautiful  object,  when  a 
long  low  whistle  attracted  my  attention.  I looked  in  the  direc- 
tion from  whence  it  proceeded,  and  discovered  at  some  distance 
from  me  three  figures  standing  beside  the  ruin  of  an  old  abbey, 
which  I now  for  the  first  time  perceived. 

If  I had  entertained  any  doubt  as  to  who  they  were,  it  had 
been  speedily  resolved,  for  I now  saw  one  of  the  party  waving 
his  hat  to  me,  whom  I soon  recognized  to  be  Curzon.  He  came 
forward  to  meet  me,  and,  in  the  few  hundred  yards  that  inter- 
vened before  our  reaching  the  others,  told  me  as  much  as  he 
knew  of  the  opposite  party ; which,  after  all,  was  but  little.  Mr. 
Beamish,  my  adversary,  he  described  as  a morose,  fire-eating 
Southern,  that,  evidently,  longed  for  an  “ affair  ” with  a military 
man,  then  considered  a circumstance  of  some  eclat  in  the 
South;  his  second,  the  doctor,  on  the  contrary,  was  by  far 
“ the  best  of  the  cut-throats,”  a most  amusing  little  person- 
age, full  of  his  own  importance,  and  profuse  in  his  legends  of 
his  own  doings  in  love  and  war,  and  evidently  disposed  to  take 
the  pleasing  side  of  every  occurrence  in  life they  both  agreed 
in  but  one  point — a firm  and  fixed  resolve  to  give  no  explana- 
tion of  the  quarrel  with  me.  “ So  then,”  said  I,  as  Curzon 
hurried  over  the  preceding  account,  “ you  absolutely  know  noth- 
ing whatever  of  the  reason  for  which  I am  about  to  give  this 
man  a meeting.” 

“ No  more  than  you,”  said  Curzon,  with  imperturbable  gravity ; 
“ but  one  thing  I am  certain  of — had  I not  at  once  promised  him 
such,  he  would  have  posted  you  in  Limerick  the  next  morning  ; 
and,  as  you  know  our  mess-rule  in  the  4 — th,  I thought  it 
best ” 

“ Oh,  certainly,  quite  right ; but  now,  are  you  quite  certain  I 


PUZZLED . 


43 


am  the  man  who  offended  him  ? for  I solemnly  assure  you  I 
have  not  the  most  remote  recollection  of  having  ever  heard  of 
him.,, 

“ That'  point, ” said  Curzon,  “there  can  be  no  doubt  of,  for  he 
not  only  designated  you  as  Mr.  Harry  Lorrequer,  but  the  gen- 
tleman that  made  all  Cork  laugh  so  heartily  by  his  representa- 
tion of  Othello.” 

“ Stop  ! ” said  I ; “ not  a word  more  ; I’m  his  man.” 

By  this  time  we  had  reached  the  ruins,  and  turning  a corner 
came  in  full  contact  with  the  enemy.  They  had  been  resting 
themselves  on  a tombstone,  and  rose  as  we  approached. 

“ Allow  me,”  said  Curzon,  stepping  a little  in  advance  of  me 
— “ allow  me  to  introduce  my  friend  Mr.  Lorrequer,  Dr.  Fini- 
cane ; Dr.  Finicane,  Mr.  Lorrequer.” 

“ Finucane,  if  quite  agreeable  to  you — Finucane,”  said  the 
little  gentleman,  as  he  lifted  his  hat  straight  off  his  head,  and 
replaced  it  most  accurately,  by  way  of  salute.  “ Mr.  Lorrequer, 
it  is  with  sincere  pleasure  I make  your  acquaintance.”  Here 
Mr.  Beamish  bowed  stiffly,  in  return  to  my  salutation,  and  at 
the  instant  a kind  of  vague  sensation  crossed  my  mind  that  those 
red  whiskers  and  that  fiery  face  were  not  seen  for  the  first  time  ; 
but  the  thumb-screws  of  the  Holy  Office  would  have  been  pow- 
erless to  refresh  my  memory  as  to  when. 

“ Captain,”  said  the  doctor,  44  may  I request  the  favor  of  your 
company  this  way,  one  minute  ? ” They  both  walked  aside  ; the 
only  words  which  reached  me  as  I moved  off,  to  permit  their 
conference,  being  an  assurance  on  the  part  of  the  doctor,  “ that 
it  was  a sweet  spot  he  picked  out,  for,  by  having  them  placed 
north  and  south,  neither  need  have  a patch  of  sky  behind  him.” 
Very  few  minutes  sufficed  for  preliminaries,  and  they  both  ad- 
vanced, smirking  and  smiling,  as  if  they  had  just  arranged  a new 
plan  for  the  amelioration  of  the  poor,  or  the  benefit  of  the  man- 
ufacturing classes,  instead  of  making  preparations  for  sending 
a fellow  creature  out  of  the  world. 

“ Then,  if  I understand  you,  captain,”  said  the  doctor,  “ you 
step  the  distance,  and  I give  the  word.” 

“ Exactly,”  said  Curzon. 

After  a joking  allusion  to  my  friend’s  length  of  limb,  at  which 
we  all  laughed  heartily,  we  were  placed,  Curzon  and  the  doctor 
standing  and  breaking  the  line  between  us  ; the  pistols  were 
then  put  into  our  hands,  the  doctor  saying, — “ Now,  gentlemen, 
I’ll  just  retire  six  paces,  and  turn  round,  which  will  be  quite 
time  enough  to  prepare,  and  at  the  word  4 Fire,’  ye’ll  blaze  away; 
mind  now.”  With  a knowing  wink,  the  doctor  delivered  this  di- 
rection, and  immediately  moved  off ; the  word  44  Fire  ” followed. 


44 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


and  both  pistols  went  off  together.  My  hat  was  struck  near 
the  top,  and,  as  the  smoke  cleared  away,  I perceived  that  my 
ball  had  taken  effect  upon  my  adversary ; he  was  wounded  a 
little  below  the  knee,  and  appeared  to  steady  himself  with  the 
greatest  difficulty.  “ Your  friend  is  hit,”  said  Curzon  to  the 
doctor,  who  now  came  forward  with  another  pistol.  “Your 
friend  is  hit.” 

“ So  I perceive,”  said  he,  placing  his  finger  on  the  spot ; “ but 
it  is  no  harm  in  life  ; so  we  proceed,  if  you  please.” 

“You  don’t  mean  to  demand  another  shot,”  said  Curzon. 

“ Faith  do  I,”  said  the  doctor,  coolly. 

“ Then,”  said  Curzon,  “ I must  tell  you  most  unequivocally  I 
refuse,  and  shall  now  withdraw  my  friend ; and  had  it  not  been 
for  a regulation  peculiar  to  our  regiment,  but  never  intended  to 
include  cases  of  this  nature,  we  had  not  been  here  now  ; for,  up 
to  this  hour,  my  principal  and  myself  are  in  utter  ignorance  of 
any  cause  of  offence  ever  having  been  offered  by  him  to  Mr. 
Beamish.” 

“ Giles,  do  you  hear  this  ? ” said  the  doctor. 

But  Giles  did  not  hear  it,  for  the  rapid  loss  of  blood  from  his 
wound  had  so  weakened  him,  that  he  had  fainted,  and  lay  peace- 
ably on  the  grass.  Etiquette  was  now  at  an  end,  and  we  all 
ran  forward  to  assist  the  wounded  man.  For  some  minutes  he 
lay  apparently  quite  senseless,  and  when  he  at  last  rallied  and 
looked  wildly  about  him,  it  appeared  to  be  with  difficulty  that 
he  recalled  any  recollection  of  the  place,  and  the  people  around 
him.  For  a few  seconds  he  fixed  his  eyes  steadily  upon  the  doc- 
tor, and  with  a lip  pale  and  bloodless,  and  a voice  quivering  from 
weakness,  said, — 

“ Fin  ! didn’t  I tell  ye  that  pistol  always  threw  high  ? Oh  ! ” — 
and  this  he  said  with  a sigh  that  nearly  overpowered  him — “ oh, 
Fin,  if  you  had  only  given  me  the  saw-handled  one,  that  I a??i 
used  to But  it  is  no  good  talking  now.” 

In  my  inmost  heart  I was  grateful  to  the  little  doctor  for  his 
mistake,  for  1 plainly  perceived  what  “ the  saw-handled  one  he 
was  used  to  ” might  have  done  for  me,  and  could  not  help  mut- 
tering to  myself  with  good  Sir  Andrew — “ If  I had  known  he 
was  so  cunning  of  fence,  I’d  have  seen  him  damned  before  that 
I fought  with  him.” 

Our  first  duty  was  now  to  remove  the  wounded  man  to  the 
high  road,  about  which  both  he  himself  and  his  second  seemed 
disposed  to  make  some  difficulty.  They  spoke  together  for  a 
few  moments  in  a low  tone  of  voice,  and  then  the  doctor  ad- 
dressed us — “ We  feel,  gentlemen,  this  is  not  a time  for  any  con- 
cealment , but  the  truth  is,  we  have  need  of  great  circumspection 


PUZZLED . 


45 


here,  for  I must  inform  you,  we  are  both  of  us  bound  over  in 
heavy  recognizances  to  keep  the  peace.” 

“ Bound  over  to  keep  the  peace  ! ” said  Curzon  and  myself 
together. 

“ Nothing  less ; and  although  there  is  nobody  hereabout 
would  tell,  yet  if  the  affair  got  into  the  papers  by  any  means, 
why  there  are  some  people  in  Cork  would  like  to  press  my  friend 
there,  for  he  is  a very  neat  shot  when  he  has  the  saw-handle.” 
And  here  the  doctor  winked. 

We  had  little  time  permitted  us  to  think  upon  the  oddity  of 
meeting  a man  in  such  circumstances,  for  we  were  now  obliged 
to  contribute  our  aid  in  conveying  him  to  the  road,  where  some 
means  might  be  procured  for  his  transfer  to  Kilrush,  or  some 
other  town  in  the  neighborhood,  for  he  was  by  this  time  totally 
unable  to  walk. 

After  half  an  hour’s  toiling  we  at  last  did  reach  the  highway, 
by  which  time  I had  ample  opportunity,  short  as  the  space  was, 
to  see  something  of  the  character  of  our  two  opponents.  It 
appeared  that  the  doctor  exercised  the  most  absolute  control 
over  his  large  friend,  dictating  and  commanding  in  a tone  which 
the  other  never  ventured  to  resist.  For  a moment  or  two  Mr. 
Beamish  expressed  a great  desire  to  be  conveyed  by  night  to 
Kilrush,  where  he  might  find  means  to  cross  the  Shannon  into 
Kerry.  This,  however,  the  doctor  opposed  strenuously,  from 
the  risk  of  publicity  ; and  finally  settled  that  we  should  all  go 
in  a body  to  his  friend  Father  Malachi  Brennan’s  house,  only 
two  miles  off,  where  the  sick  man  would  have  the  most  tender 
care,  and,  what  the  doctor  considered  equally  indispensable, 
we  ourselves  a most  excellent  supper,  and  a hearty  welcome. 

“ You  know  Father  Malachi,  of  course,  Mr.  Lorrequer  ? ” 

“ I am  ashamed  to  say  I do  not.” 

“ Not  know  Malachi  Brennan,  and  live  in  Clare  ! Well,  well, 
that  is  strange  ! Sure  he  is  the  priest  of  this  country  for  twelve 
miles  in  every  direction  of  you,  and  a better  man,  and  a pleas- 
anter, there  does  not  live  in  the  diocese  ; though  I’m  his  cousin 
that  says  it.” 

After  professing  all  the  possible  pleasure  it  would  afford  my 
friend  and  myself  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  Father  Malachi, 
we  proceeded  to  place  Mr.  Beamish  in  a car  that  was  passing  at 
the  time,  and  started  for  the  residence  of  the  good  priest.  The 
whole  of  the  way  thither  I was  occupied  but  by  one  thought,  a 
burning  anxiety  to  know  the  cause  of  our  quarrel,  and  I longed 
for  the  moment  when  I might  get  the  doctor  apart  from  his 
friend  to  make  the  inquiry. 

“ There — look  down  to  vnur  left,  where  you  see  the  lights 


46 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


shining  so  brightly,  that  is  Father  Malachi’s  house ; as  sure  as 
my  name  is  De  Courcy  Finucane,  there’s  fun  going  on  there 
this  night.” 

“ Why,  there  certainly  does  seem  a great  illumination  in  the 
valley  there,”  said  I. 

uMay  I never,”  said  the  doctor,  “if  it  isn’t  a station ” 

“A  station  ! — pray,  may  I ask ” 

“You  need  not  ask  a word  on  the  subject;  for,  if  I am  a 
true  prophet,  you’ll  know  what  it  means  before  morning.” 

A little  more  chatting  together  brought  us  to  a narrow  road, 
flanked  on  either  side  by  high  hedges  of  hawthorn,  and,  in  a 
few  minutes  more,  we  stood  before  the  priest’s  residence,  a long, 
whitewashed,  thatched  house,  having  great  appearance  of  com- 
fort and  convenience.  Arrived  here,  the  doctor  seemed  at 
once  to  take  on  him  the  arrangement  of  the  whole  party  ; for, 
after  raising  the  latch  and  entering  the  house,  he  returned  to  us 
in  a few  minutes,  and  said, — 

“Wait  a while,  now;  we’ll  not  go  in  to  Father  Malachi  till 
we’ve  put  Giles  to  bed.” 

We,  accordingly,  lifted  him  from  the  car,  and  assisted  him 
into  the  house,  and,  following  Finucane  down  a narrow  passage, 
at  last  reached  a most  comfortable  little  chamber,  with  a neat 
bed.  Here  we  placed  him,  while  the  doctor  gave  some  direc- 
tions to  a bare-headed,  red-legged  hussey,  without  shoes  or 
stockings,  and  himself  proceeded  to  examine  the  wound,  which 
was  a more  serious  one  than  it  at  first  appeared. 

After  half  an  hour  thus  occupied,  during  which  time  roars  of 
merriment  and  hearty  peals  of  laughter  burst  upon  us,  every 
time  the  door  opened,  from  a distant  part  of  the  house,  where 
his  reverence  was  entertaining  his  friends,  and  which,  as  often 
as  they  were  heard  by  the  doctor,  seemed  to  produce  in  him 
sensations  not  unlike  those  that  afflicted  the  “ wedding  guest  ” 
in  the  “Ancient  Mariner,”  when  he  heard  the  “ loud  bassoon,” 
and  as  certainly  imparted  an  equally  longing  desire  to  be  a par- 
taker in  the  mirth.  We  arranged  everything  satisfactorily  for 
Mr.  Beamish’s  comfort,  and  with  a large  basin  of  vinegar  and 
water,  to  keep  his  knee  cool,  and  a strong  tumbler  of  hot  punch, 
to  keep  his  heart  warm — homoeopathic  medicine  is  not  half  so 
new  as  Dr.  Hahnneman  would  make  us  believe — we  left  Mr. 
Beamish  to  his  own  meditations,  and  doubtless  regrets,  that 
he  did  not  get  “ the  saw-handled  one  he  was  used  to,”  while 
we  proceeded  to  make  our  bows  to  Father  Malachi  Brennan. 

But,  as  I have  no  intention  to  treat  fhe  good  priest  with  in- 
gratitude, I shall  not  present  him  to  my  readers  at  the  tail  of  a 
chapter. 


THE  PRIEST'S  SUPPER. 


47 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  PRIEST^  SUPPER — FATHER  MALACHI  AND  THE  COADJUTOR 
— MAJOR  JONES  AND  THE  ABBE. 

At  the  conclusion  of  our  last  chapter  we  left  our  quondam 
antagonist,  Mr.  Beamish,  stretched  at  full  length  upon  a bed 
practising  homoeopathy,  by  administering  hot  punch  to  his  fever, 
while  we  followed  our  chaperon,  Doctor  Finucane,  into  the  pres- 
ence of  the  Reverend  Father  Brennan. 

The  company  into  which  we  now,  without  any  ceremony  on 
our  parts,  introduced  ourselves,  consisted  of  from  five-and 
twenty  to  thirty  persons,  seated  around  a large  oak  table, 
plentifully  provided  with  materials  for  drinking,  and  cups, 
goblets,  and  glasses  of  every  shape  and  form.  The  moment  we 
entered,  the  doctor  stepped  forward,  and  touching  Father  Mal- 
achi  on  the  shoulder — for  so  I rightly  guessed  him  to  be — 
presented  himself  to  his  relative,  by  whom  he  was  welcomed 
with  every  demonstration  of  joy.  While  their  recognitions  were 
exchanged,  and  while  the  doctor  explained  the  reasons  of  our 
visit,  I was  enabled,  undisturbed  and  unnoticed,  to  take  a brief 
survey  of  the  party. 

Father  Malachi  Brennan,  P.P.  of  Carrigaholt,  was  what  I had 
often  pictured  to  myself  as  the  beau  ideal  of  his  caste.  His 
figure  was  short,  fleshy,  and  enormously  muscular,  and  displayed 
proportions  which  wanted  but  height  to  constitute  a perfect 
Hercules  ; his  legs  so  thick  in  the  calf,  so  taper  in  the  ankle, 
looked  like  nothing  I know,  except,  perhaps,  the  metal  balus- 
trades of  Carlisle-bridge ; his  face  was  large  and  rosy,  and  the 
general  expression,  a mixture  of  unbounded  good  humor  and 
inexhaustible  drollery,  to  which  the  restless  activity  of  his  black 
and  arched  eyebrows  greatly  contributed ; and  his  mouth,  were 
it  not  for  a character  of  sensuality  and  voluptuousness  about  the 
nether  lip,  had  been  actually  handsome  ; his  head  was  bald,  ex- 
cept a narrow  circle  close  above  the  ears,  which  was  marked  by 
a ring  of  curly  dark  hair,  sadly  insufficient,  however,  to  conceal  a 
development  behind,  that,  if  there  be  truth  in  phrenology, 
boded  but  little  happiness  to  the  disciples  of  Miss  Martineau. 

Add  to  these  external  signs  a voice,  rich,  fluent,  and  racy, 
with  the  mellow  “ doric  ” of  his  country,  and  you  have  some 
faint  resemblance  of  one  “ every  inch  a priest.”  The  very 
antipodes  to  the  bonhomie  of  this  figure,  confronted  him  as 
croupier  at  the  foot  of  the  table.  This,  as  I afterwards  learned, 
was  no  less  a person  than  Mister  Donovan,  the  coadjutor  or 


48 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


“ curate.”  He  was  a tall,  spare,  ungainly  looking  man  of  about 
five-and-thirty,  with  a pale,  ascetic  countenance,  the  only  read- 
able expression  of  which  vibrated  between  low  suspicion  and 
intense  vulgarity;  over  his  low,  projecting  forehead  hung  down 
a mass  of  straight  red  hair;  indeed — for  nature  is  not  a politi- 
cian— it  almost  approached  an  orange  hue.  This  was  cut  close 
to  the  head  all  round,  and  displayed  in  their  full  proportions  a 
pair  of  enormous  ears,  which  stood  out  in  “ relief,”  like  turrets 
from  a watch-tower,  and  with  pretty  much  the  same  object ; his 
skin  was  of  that  peculiar  color  and  texture,  to  which,  not  ail 
“ the  water  in  great  Neptune’s  ocean  ” could  impart  a look  of 
cleanliness,  while  his  very  voice,  hard,  harsh,  and  inflexible, 
was  unprepossessing  and  unpleasant.  And  yet,  strange  as  it 
may  seem,  he,  too,  was  a correct  type  of  his  order;  the  only 
difference  being,  that  Father  Malachi  was  an  older  coinage, 
with  the  impress  of  Douai  or  St.  Olmer,  whereas  Mister  Donovan 
was  the  shining  metal,  fresh  stamped  from  the  mint  of  May- 
nooth. 

While  thus  occupied  in  my  surveillance  of  the  scene  before 
me,  I was  roused  by  the  priest  saying, 

“ Ah,  Fin,  my  darling,  you  needn’t  deny  it ; you’re  at  the  old 
game  as  sure  as  my  name  is  Malachi,  and  ye’ll  never  be  easy 
nor  quiet  till  ye’re  sent  beyond  the  sea,  or  maybe  have  a record 
of  your  virtues  on  half  a ton  of  marble  in  the  church-yard,  yon- 
der.” 

“ Upon  my  honor — upon  the  sacred  honor  of  a De  Cour- 
cy ” 

“ Well,  well,  never  mind  it  now ; ye  see  ye’er  just  keeping 
your  friends  cooling  themselves  there  in  the  corner — introduce 
me  at  once.” 

“ Mr.  Lorrequer,  I’m  sure ” 

“ My  name  is  Curzon,”  said  the  adjutant,  bowing. 

“A  mighty  pretty  name,  though  a little  profane.  Well,  Mr. 
Curseon,”  for  so  he  pronounced  it,  “ ye’re  as  welcome  as  the 
flowers  in  May  ; and  it’s  mighty  proud  I am  to  see  ye  here.” 

“ Mr.  Lorrequer,  allow  me  to  shake  your  hand — I’ve  heard 
of  ye  before.” 

There  seemed  nothing  very  strange  in  that ; for  go  where  I 
would  through  this  county,  I seemed  as  generally  known  as  ever 
was  Brummell  in  Bond  Street. 

“ Fin  tells  me,”  continued  Father  Malachi,  “ that  ye’d  rather 
not  be  known  down  here,  in  regard  of  a reason  ; ” and  here  he 
winked.  “ Make  yourself  quite  easy  ; the  king’s  writ  was  never 
but  once  in  these  parts  ; and  the  ‘ original  and  true  copy  ’ went 
back  to  Limerick  in  the  stomach  of  the  server;  they  made  him 


THE  PRIEST'S  SUPPER. 


49 


eat  h,  Mr.  Lorrequer  ! but  it’s  as  well  to  be  cautious,  for  there 
are  a good  number  here.  A little  dinner,  a little  quarterly  din- 
ner we  have  among  us,  Mr.  Curseon,  to  be  social  together,  and 
raise  a ‘ thrifle  ’ for  the  Irish  college  at  Rome,  where  we  have  a 
probationer  or  two,  ourselves.” 

“ As  good  as  a station,  and  more  drink,”  whispered  Fin  into 
my  ear. 

“ And  now,”  continued  the  priest,  “ ye  must  just  permit  me 
to  re-christen  ye  both,  and  the  contribution  will  not  be  the  less 
for  what  I’m  going  to  do;  and  I’m  certain  you’ll  not  be  the 
worse  for  the  change,  Mr.  Curseon — though  ’tis  only  for  a few 
hours,  ye’ll  have  a dacent  name.” 

As  I could  see  no  possible  objection  to  this  proposal,  nor  did 
Curzon,  either,  our  only  desire  being  to  maintain  the  secrecy 
necessary  for  our  antagonist’s  safety,  we  at  once  assented  ; 
when  Father  Malachi  took  me  by  the  hand,  but  with  such  a 
total  change  in  his  whole  air  and  deportment,  that  I was  com- 
pletely puzzled  by  it.  He  led  me  forward  to  the  company  with 
a good  deal  of  that  ceremonious  reverence  I have  often  ad- 
mired in  Sir  Charles  Vernon,  when  conducting  some  full-blown 
dowager  through  the  mazes  of  a castle  minuet.  The  desire  to 
laugh  outright  was  almost  irresistible,  as  the  Rev.  Father  stood 
at  arm’s  length  from  me,  still  holding  my  hand,  and  bowing  to 
the  company  pretty  much  in  the  style  of  a manager  introducing 
a blushing  de'butante  to  an  audience.  A moment  more,  and  I 
must  have  inevitably  given  way  to  a burst  of  laughter,  when 
what  was  my  horror  to  hear  the  priest  present  me  to  the  com- 
pany as  their  “ excellent,  worthy,  generous,  and  patriotic  young 
landlord,  Lord  Kilkee.  Cheer  every  mother’s  son  of  ye  ; cheer, 
I say ; ” and  certainly  precept  was  never  more  strenuously 
backed  by  example,  for  he  huzzaed  till  I thought  he  would 
burst  a blood-vessel ; may  I add,  I almost  wished  it,  such  was 
the  insufferable  annoyance,  the  chagrin,  this  announcement 
gave  me ; and  I waited  with  eager  impatience  for  the  din  and 
clamor  to  subside,  to  disclaim  every  syllable  of  the  priest’s  an- 
nouncement, and  take  the  consequences  of  my  baptismal  epithet, 
cost  what  it  might.  To  this  I was  impelled  by  many  and  im- 
portant reasons.  Situated  as  I was  with  respect  to  the  Callonby 
family,  my  assumption  of  their  name  at  such  a moment  might 
get  abroad,  and  the  consequences  to  me  be  inevitable  ruin  ; 
and  independent  of  my  natural  repugnance  to  such  sailing  under 
false  colors,  I saw  Curzon  laughing  almost  to  suffocation  at  my 
wretched  predicament,  and  (so  strong  within  me  was  the  dread 
of  ridicule)  I thought,  “ what  a pretty  narrative  he  is  concoct- 
ing for  the  mess  this  minute.”  I rose  to  reply  ; and  whether 
4 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


SO 

Father  Malachi,  with  his  intuitive  quickness,  guessed  my  purpose 
or  not,  I cannot  say,  but  he  certainly  resolved  to  out-manceuvre 
me,  and  he  succeeded  : while  with  one  hand  he  motioned  to 
the  party  to  keep  silence,  with  the  other  he  took  hold  of  Curzon, 
but  with  no  peculiar  or  very  measured  respect,  and  introduced 
him  as  Mr.  M‘Neesh,  the  new  Scotch  steward  and  improver — 
a character  at  that  time  whose  popularity  might  compete  with 
a tithe  proctor  or  an  exciseman.  So  completely  did  this  tactic 
turn  the  tables  upon  the  poor  adjutant,  who  the  moment  before 
was  exulting  over  me,  that  I utterly  forgot  my  own  woes,  and 
sat  down  convulsed  with  mirth  at  his  situation — an  emotion 
certainly  not  lessened  as  I saw  Curzon  passed  from  one  to  the 
other  at  table,  “like  a pauper  to  his  parish, ” till  he  found  an 
asylum  at  the  very  foot,  in  juxta  with  the  engaging  Mr.  Donovan, 
a propinquity,  if  I might  judge  from  their  countenances,  un- 
coveted by  either  party. 

While  this  was  performing,  Doctor  Finucane  was  making  his 
recognitions  with  several  of  the  company,  to  whom  he  had  been 
long  known  during  his  visits  to  the  neighborhood.  I now  re- 
sumed  my  place  on  the  right  of  “ the  father, ” abandoning  for 
the  present  all  intention  of  disclaiming  my  rank,  and  the  cam- 
paign was  opened.  The  priest  now  exerted  himself  to  the  ut- 
most to  recall  conversation  into  the  original  channels,  and  if 
possible  to  draw  off  attention  from  me,  which  he  still  feared 
might,  perhaps,  elicit  some  unlucky  announcement  on  my  part. 
Failing  in  his  endeavors  to  bring  matters  to  their  former  foot- 
ing, he  turned  the  whole  brunt  of  his  attentions  to  the  worthy 
doctor,  who  sat  on  his  left. 

“ How  goes  on  the  law,”  said  he,  “ Fin  ? — any  new  proofs,  as 
they  call  them,  forthcoming  ? ” 

What  Fin  replied  I could  not  hear,  but  the  allusion  to  the 
“ suit”  was  explained  by  Father  Malachi  informing  us  that  the 
only  impediment  between  his  cousin  and  the  title  of  Kinsale  lay 
in  the  unfortunate  fact  that  his  grandmother,  “ rest  her  sowl,” 
was  not  a man. 

Dr.  Finucane  winced  a little  under  the  manner  in  which  this 
was  spoken,  but  returned  the  fire  by  asking  if  the  bishop  was 
down  lately  in  that  quarter  ? The  evasive  way  in  which  “ the 
father  ” replied  having  stimulated  my  curiosity  as  to  the  reason, 
little  entreaty  was  necessary  to  persuade  the  doctor  to  relate  the 
following  anecdote,  which  was  not  relished  the  less  by  his  supe 
rior,  that  it  told  somewhat  heavily  on  Mr.  Donovan. 

“ It  is  about  four  years  ago,”  said  the  doctor,  “ since  the  bish- 
op, Dr.  Plunkett,  took  it  into  his  head  that  he’d  make  a general 
inspection,  4 a reconnaisance,’  as  we’d  call  it,  Mr.  Lor — that  is, 


THE  PRIEST'S  SUPPER. 


5' 


my  lord  ! through  the  whole  diocese,  and  leave  no  part,  far  or 
near,  without  poking  his  nose  in  it  and  seeing  how  matters  were 
doing.  He  heard  very  queer  stories  about  his  reverence  here, 
and  so  down  he  came  one  morning  in  the  month  of  July,  riding 
upon  an  old  gray  hack,  looking  just  for  all  the  world  like  any 
other  elderly  gentleman  in  very  rusty  black.  When  he  got  near 
the  village  he  picked  up  a little  boy  to  show  him  the  short  cut 
across  the  fields  to  the  house  here  ; and  as  his  lordship  was  a 
4 sharp  man  and  a shrewd,’  he  kept  his  eye  on  everything  as  he 
went  along,  remarking  this,  and  noting  down  that. 

44  4 Are  ye  regular  in  your  duties,  my  son  ? ’ said  he  to  the 
child. 

44  4 1 never  miss  a Sunday,’  said  the  gossoon  ; 4 for  it’s  always 
walking  his  reverence’s  horse  I am  the  whole  time  av  prayers.’ 

44  His  lordship  said  no  more  for  a little  while,  when  he  mut- 
tered between  his  teeth,  4 Ah,  it’s  just  slander — nothing  but 
slander  and  lying  tongues.’  This  soliloquy  was  caused  by 
his  remarking  that  on  every  gate  he  passed,  or  from  every 
cabin,  two  or  three  urchins  would  come  out  half  naked,  but  all 
with  the  finest  heads  of  red  hair  he  ever  saw  in  his  life. 

44  4 How  is  it,  my  son,’  said  he  at  length ; 4 they  tell  very 
strange  stories  about  Father  Malachi,  and  I see  so  many  of 
these  children  with  red  hair.  Eh — now  Father  Malachi’s  a 
dark  man.’ 

44  4 True  for  ye,’  said  the  boy  ; 4 true  for  ye,  Father  Malachi’s 
dark  ; but  the  coadjutor  ! — the  coadjutor’s  as  red  as  a fox.’  ” 

When  the  laugh  this  story  caused  had  a little  subsided, 
Father  Malachi  called  out,  44  Mickey  Oulahan  ! Mickey,  I say, 
hand  his  lordship  over  4 the  groceries  ’ ” — thus  he  designated 
a square  decanter  containing  about  two  quarts  of  whiskey,  and 
a bowl  heaped  high  with  sugar — 44  a dacent  boy  is  Mickey,  my 
lord,  and  I’m  happy  to  be  the  means  of  making  him  known  to 
you.”  I bowed  with  condescension,  while  Mr.  Oulahan’s  eyes 
sparkled  like  diamonds  at  the  recognition. 

44  He  has  only  two  years  of  the  lease  to  run,  and  a 4 long 
charge  ’ ” ( anglice , a large  family),  continued  the  priest. 

44  I’ll  not  forget  him,  you  may  depend  upon  it,”  said  I. 

44  Do  you  hear  that,”  said  Father  Malachi,  casting  a glance 
of  triumph  round  the  table,  while  a general  buzz  of  commenda- 
tion on  priest  and  patron  went  round,  with  many  such  phrases 
as  44  Och,  thin,”  44  it’s  his  riv’rance  cciii  do  it,”  44  na  bocklish,” 
44  and  why  not,”  etc.,  etc.  As  for  me,  I have  already  44  con- 
fessed ” to  my  crying  sin — a fatal  irresistible  inclination  to 
follow  the  humor  of  the  moment  wherever  it  led  me  ; and  now  I 
found  myself  as  active  a partisan  in  quizzing  Mickey  Oulahan* 


52 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


as  though  I was  not  myself  a party  included  in  the  jest.  I was 
thus  fairly  launched  into  my  inveterate  habit,  and  nothing 
could  arrest  my  progress. 

One  by  one  the  different  individuals  round  the  table  were 
presented  to  me  and  made  known  their  various  wants,  with 
an  implicit  confidence  in  my  power  of  relieving  them,  which  I 
with  equal  readiness  ministered  to.  I lowered  the  rent  of 
every  man  at  table.  I made  a general  jail  delivery,  an  act 
of  grace  (I  blush  to  say)  which  seemed  to  be  peculiarly  inter-  * 
esting  to  the  present  company.  I abolished  all  arrears — made 
a new  line  of  road  through  an  impassable  bog  and  over  an 
inaccessible  mountain — and  conducted  water  to  a mill  which 
(I  learned  in  the  morning)  was  always  worked  by  wind.  The 
decanter  had  scarcely  completed  its  third  circuit  of  the  board, 
when  I bid  fair  to  be  the  most  popular  specimen  of  the  peer- 
age that  ever  visited  the  “far  west.”  In  the  midst  of  my 
career  of  universal  benevolence,  I was  interrupted  by  Father 
Malachi,  whom  I found  on  his  legs,  pronouncing  a glowing 
eulogium  on  his  cousin’s  late  regiment,  the  famous  North  Cork. 

“ That  was  the  corps  ! ” said  he.  “ Bid  them  do  a thing, 
and  they’d  never  leave  off ; and  so,  when  they  got  orders  to 
retire  from  Wexford,  it’s  little  they  cared  for  the  comforts  of 
baggage,  like  many  another  regiment,  for  they  threw  away 
everything  but  their  canteens,  and  never  stopped  till  they  ran 
to  Ross,  fifteen  miles  farther  than  the  enemy  followed  them. 
And  when  they  were  all  in  bed  the  same  night,  fatigued  and 
tired  with  their  exertions,  as  ye  may  suppose,  a drummer-boy 
called  out  in  his  sleep, — 4 Here  they  are — they’re  coming!’ 
they  all  jumped  up  and  set  off  in  their  shirts,  and  got  two  miles 
out  of  town  before  they  discovered  it  was  a false  alarm.” 

Peal  after  peal  of  laughter  followed  the  priest’s  encomium 
on  the  doctor’s  regiment ; and,  indeed,  he  himself  joined  most 
heartily  in  the  mirth,  as  he  well  might  afford  to  do,  seeing  that 
a braver  or  better  corps  than  the  North  Cork,  Ireland  did  not 
oossess. 

44  Well,”  said  Fin,  44  it’s  easy  to  see  ye  never  can  forget  what 
they  did  at  Maynooth.” 

Father  Malachi  disclaimed  all  personal  feeling  on  the  sub- 
ject ; and  I was  at  last  gratified  by  the  following  narrative,  which 
I regret  deeply  I am  not  enabled  to  give  in  the  doctor’s  own 
words  ; but  writing  as  I do  from  memory — in  most  instances — 

I can  only  convey  the  substance  : 

It  was  towards  the  latter  end  of  the  year  ’98 — the  year  of 
the  troubles — that  the  North  Cork  was  ordered,  44  for  their 
sins,”  I believe,  to  march  from  their  snug  quarters  in  Fermoy 


THE  PRIESTS  SUPPER . 


33 


and  take  up  a position  in  the  town  of  Maynooth — a very  con- 
siderable reverse  of  fortune  to  a set  of  gentlemen  extremely 
addicted  to  dining  out,  and  living  at  large  upon  a very  pleasant 
neighborhood.  Fermoy  abounded  in  gentry ; Maynooth,  at 
that  time,  had  few,  if  any,  excepting  his  Grace  of  Leinster,  and 
he  lived  very  privately,  and  saw  no  company.  Maynooth  was 
stupid  and  dull — there  was  neither  belles  nor  balls  ; Fermoy 
(to  use  the  doctor’s  well  remembered  words)  had  “ great  feed- 
ing,” and  “ very  genteel  young  ladies,  that  carried  their  hand 
kerchiefs  in  bags,  and  danced  with  the  officers.” 

They  had  not  been  many  weeks  in  their  new  quarters  when 
they  began  to  pine  over  their  altered  fortunes,  and  it  was  with  a 
sense  of  delight,  which  a few  months  before  would  have  been  in- 
comprehensible to  them,  they  discovered  that  one  of  their  officers 
had  a brother,  a young  priest  in  the  college  : he  introduced  him 
to  some  of  his  confreres,  and  the  natural  result  followed.  A 
visiting  acquaintance  began  between  the  regiment  and  such  of 
the  members  of  the  college  as  had  liberty  to  leave  the  pre- 
cincts : who,  as  time  ripened  the  acquaintance  into  intimacy, 
very  naturally  preferred  the  mess  of  the  North  Cork  to  the 
meagre  fare  of  “ the  refectory.”  At  last,  seldom  a day  went  by 
without  one  or  two  of  their  reverences  finding  themselves  guests 
at  the  mess.  The  North  Corkians  were  of  a most  hospitable 
turn,  and  the  fathers  were  determined  the  virtue  should  not 
rust  for  want  of  being  exercised  ; they  would  just  drop  in  to  say  a 
word  to  “ Captain  O’Flaherty  about  leave  to  shoot  in  the  de- 
mesne,” as  Carton  was  styled  ; or,  they  had  a “ frank  from  the 
Duke  for  the  Colonel,”  or  some  other  equally  pressing  reason  ; 
and  they  would  contrive  to  be  caught  in  the  middle  of  a very 
droll  story  just  as  the  “ roast  beef  ” was  playing.  Very  little  en- 
treaty then  sufficed — a short  apology  for  the  “ derangements  ” 
of  dress,  and  a few  minutes  more  found  them  seated  at  table 
without  further  ceremony  on  either  side. 

Among  the  favorite  guests  from  the  college,  two  were  pecu- 
liarly in  estimation — “ the  Professor  of  the  Humanities,”  Father 
Luke  Mooney ; and  the  Abbe  d’Array,  “ the  Lecturer  on 
Moral  Philosophy  and  Belles  Lettres  ; ” and  certain  it  is,  pleas- 
anter fellows,  or  more  gifted  with  the  “ convivial  bump,”  there 
never  existed.  He  of  the  Humanities  was  a droll  dog — a mem- 
ber of  the  Curran  Club,  the  “ monks  of  the  screw,”  told  an  ex- 
cellent story,  and  sang  the  “ Cruiskeen  Lawn  ” better  than  did 
any  before  or  since  him  ; — the  moral  philosopher,  though  of  a 
different  genre , was  also  a most  agreeable  companion,  an  Irish- 
man transplanted  in  his  youth  to  St.  Omer,  and  who  had  grafted 
upon  his  native  humor  a considerable  share  of  French  -smart' 


54 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


ness  and  repartee — such  were  the  two,  who  ruled  supreme  in  all 
the  festive  arrangements  of  this  jovial  regiment,  and  were  at 
last  as  regular  at  table  as  the  adjutant  and  the  paymaster,  and 
so  might  they  have  continued,  had  not  prosperity,  that,  in  its 
blighting  influence  upon  the  heart,  spares  neither  priests  nor 
laymen,  and  is  equally  severe  upon  mice  (see  ^Esop’s  fable) 
and  moral  philosophers,  actually  deprived  them,  for  the 
“ nonce/’  of  reason,  and  tempted  them  to  their  ruin.  You 
naturally  ask,  what  did  they  do  ? Did  they  venture  upon  allu- 
sions to  the  retreat  upon  Ross  ? Nothing  of  the  kind.  Did 
they,  in  that  vanity  which  wine  inspires,  refer  by  word,  act,  or 
inuendo,  to  the  well-known  order  of  their  Colonel  when  review- 
ing his  regiment  in  “ the  Phoenix,”  to  “ advance  two  steps  back- 
wards, and  dress  by  the  gutter  ? ” Far  be  it  from  them  ; though 
indeed  either  of  these  had  been  esteemed  light  in  the  balance 
with  their  real  crime.  “ Then,  what  was  their  failing — come, 
tell  it,  and  bum  ye  ? ” They  actually,  I dread  to  say  it,  quizzed 
the  Major  coram  the  whole  mess  ! — Now,  Major  John  Jones  had 
only  lately  exchanged  into  the  North  Cork  from  the  “ Darry 
Ragement,”  as  he  called  it.  He  was  a red-hot  Orangeman,  a 
deputy-grand  something,  and  vice-chairman  of  the  “ ’Prentice 
Boys  ” besides.  He  broke  his  leg  when  a school-boy,  by  a fall 
incurred  in  tying  an  orange  handkerchief  around  King  William’s 
august  neck  in  College-green  on  one  12th  of  July,  and  three 
several  times  had  closed  the  gates  of  Derry  with  his  own  loyal 
hands,  on  the  famed  anniversary  ; in  a word,  he  was  one  that, 
if  his  Church  had  enjoined  penance  as  an  expiation  for  sin, 
would  have  looked  upon  a trip  to  Jerusalem  on  his  bare  knees 
as  a very  light  punishment  for  the  crime  on  his  conscience,  that 
he  sat  at  table  with  two  buck  priests  from  Maynooth,  and 
carved  for  them,  like  the  rest  of  the  company! 

Poor  Major  Jones,  however,  had  no  such  solace,  and  the 
cankerworm  ate  daily  deeper  and  deeper  into  his  pining  heart. 
During  the  three  or  four  weeks  of  their  intimacy  with  his  regi- 
ment, his  martyrdom  was  awful.  His  figure  wasted,  and  his 
color  became  a deeper  tinge  of  orange,  and  all  around  averred 
that  there  would  soon  be  a “ move  up  ” in  the  corps,  for  the 
major  had  evidently  “ got  his  notice  to  quit  ” this  world  and  its 
pomps  and  vanities.  He  felt  “ that  he  was  dying,”  to  use 
Haynes  Bayley’s  beautiful  and  apposite  words,  and  meditated 
an  exchange  ; but  that,  from  circumstances,  was  out  of  the 
question.  At  last,  subdued  by  grief,  and  probably  his  spirit 
having  chafed  itself  smooth  by  such  constant  attrition,  he  be- 
came, to  all  seeming,  calmer ; but  it  was  only  the  calm  of  a 
broken  and  weary  heart.  Such  was  Major  Jones  at  the  time 


THE  PRIEST'S  SUPPER. 


55 


when,  “ suadente  diabolo,”  it  seemed  meet  to  Fathers  Mooney 
and  D’Array  to  make  him  the  butt  of  their  raillery.  At  first,  he 
could  not  believe  it ; the  thing  was  incredible — impossible  ; but 
when  he  looked  around  the  table,  when  he  heard  the  roars  of 
laughter,  long,  loud,  and  vociferous  ; when  he  heard  his  name 
bandied  from  one  to  the  other  across  the  table,  with  some  vile 
jest  tacked  to  it  “ like  a tin  kettle  to  a dog’s  tail,”  he  awoke  to 
the  full  measure  of  his  misery — the  cup  was  full.  Fate  had  done 
her  worst,  and  he  might  have  exclaimed  with  Lear,  “ Spit,  fire — 
spout,  rain,”  there  was  nothing  in  store  for  him  of  further  mis- 
fortune. 

A drum-head  court-martial — a hint  “ to  sell  out  ” — ay,  a sen- 
tence of  “ dismissed  the  service,”  had  been  mortal  calamities, 
and,  like  a man,  he  would  have  borne  them  ; but  that  he,  Major 
John  Jones,  D.G.S.C.P.B.,  etc.  etc.,  who  had  drunk  the  “pious, 
glorious,  and  immortal,”  sitting  astride  of  “ the  great  gun  of 
Athlone,”  should  come  to  this  ! Alas,  and  alas ! He  retired 
that  night  to  his  chamber  a “sadder  if  not  a wiserman;  ” he 
dreamed  that  the  “ statue  ” had  given  place  to  the  un- 
shapely figure  of  Leo  X.,  and  that  “ Lundy  now  stood  where 
Walker  stood  before.”  He  jumped  from  his  bed  in  a moment 
of  enthusiasm,  he  vowed  his  revenge,  and  he  kept  his  vow. 

That  day  the  major  was  “ acting  field  officer.”  The  various 
patrols,  sentries,  pickets,  and  outposts,  were  all  under  his  es- 
pecial control ; and  it  was  remarked  that  he  took  peculiar  pains 
in  selecting  the  men  for  night  duty,  which,  in  the  prevailing 
quietness  and  peace  of  that  time,  seemed  scarcely  warrantable. 

Evening  drew  near,  and  Major  Jones,  summoned  by  the  “oft- 
heard  beat,”  wended  his  way  to  the  mess.  The  officers  were 
dropping  in,  and  true  as  “the  needle  to  the  pole,”  came  Father 
Mooney  and  the  Abbe.  They  were  welcomed  with  the  usual 
warmth,  and,  strange  to  say,  by  none  more  than  the  major  him- 
self, whose  hilarity  knew  no  bounds. 

How  the  evening  passed,  I shall  not  stop  to  relate  : suffice  it 
to  say,  that  a more  brilliant  feast  of  wit  and  jollification  not 
even  the  North  Cork  ever  enjoyed.  Father  Luke’s  drollest 
stories,  his  very  quaintest  humor,  shone  forth,  and  the  Abbe  sang 
a new  “ chanson  a boire ,”  that  Beranger  might  have  envied. 

“ What  are  you  about,  my  dear  Father  D’Array  ? ” said  the 
Colonel : “ you  are  surely  not  rising  yet ; here’s  a fresh 

cooper  of  port  just  come  in  ; sit  down,  I entreat.” 

“ I say  it  with  grief,  my  dear  colonel,  we  must  away ; the 
half-hour  has  just  chimed,  and  we  must  be  within  4 the  gates  ’ 
before  twelve.  The  truth  is,  the  superior  has  been  making  him- 
self very  troublesome  about  our  4 carnal  amusements,’  as  he 


56  HARR  Y L ORREQ  UER. 

calls  our-  innocent  mirth,  and  we  must  therefore  be  upon  our 
guard.” 

“ Well,  if  it  must  be  so,  we  shall  not  risk  losing  your  society 
altogether  for  an  hour  or  so  now  ; so,  one  bumper  to  our  next 
meeting — to-morrow,  mind,  and  now,  Monsieur  l’Abbe,  au  re- 
voir.” 

The  worthy  fathers  finished  their  glasses,  and  taking  a most 
affectionate  leave  of  their  kind  entertainers,  sallied  forth  under 
the  guidance  of  Major  Jones,  who  insisted  upon  accompanying 
them  part  of  the  way,  as,  “ from  information  he  had  received, 
the  sentries  were  doubled  in  some  places,  and  the  usual  pre- 
cautions against  surprise  all  taken.”  Much  as  this  polite  atten- 
tion surprised  the  objects  of  it,  his  brother  officers  wondered 
still  more,  and  no  sooner  did  they  perceive  the  major  and  his 
companions  issue  forth,  than  they  set  out  in  a body  to  watch 
where  this  most  novel  and  unexpected  complaisance  would  ter- 
minate. 

When  the  priests  reached  the  door  of  the  barrack-yard,  they 
again  turned  to  utter  their  thanks  to  the  major,  and  entreat  him 
once  more  “ not  to  come  a step  farther.  There  now,  major,  we 
know  the  path  well,  so  just  give  us  the  pass,  and  don’t  stay  out 
in  the  night  air.” 

“ Ah  oui,  Monsieur  Jones,”  said  the  Abbe,  “ retournez,  je 
vous  prie.  We  are,  I may  say,  chez  nous.  Ces  braves  gens, 
les  North  Cork,  know  us  by  this  time.” 

The  major  smiled,  while  he  still  pressed  his  services  to  see 
them  past  the  pickets,  but  they  were  resolved,  and  would  not 
be  denied. 

“ With  the  word  for  the  night  we  want  nothing  more,”  said 
Father  Luke. 

“ Well,  then,”  said  the  major,  in  the  gravest  tone — and  he 
was  naturally  grave — “ you  shall  have  your  way  ; but  remember 
to  call  out  loud,  for  the  first  sentry  is  a little  deaf,  and  a very 
passionate,  id-tempered  fellow  to  boot.” 

“ Never  fear,”  said  Father  Mooney  laughing ; “ I’ll  go  bail 
he’ll  hear  me.” 

“Well — the  word  for  the  night  is — 1 Bloody  end  to  the  Pope  ’ 

■ — don’t  forget,  now,  ‘ Bloody  end  to  the  Pope.’  ” And  with 
diese  words  he  banged  the  door  between  him  and  the  unfortu- 
nate priests ; and,  as  bolt  was  fastened  after  bolt,  they  heard 
him  laughing  to  himself  like  a fiend  over  his  vengeance. 

“And  big  bad  luck  to  ye,  Major  Jones,  for  the  same,  every 
day  ye  see  a paving-stone,”  was  the  faint  sub-audible  ejacul- 
ation of  Father  Luke,  when  he  was  recovered  enough  to 
speak. 


THE  PRIEST'S  SUPPER. 


57 


“ Sacristi ! que  nous  sommes  attrapde,”  said  the  Abbe, 
scarcely  able  to  avoid  laughing  at  the  situation  in  which  they 
were  placed. 

“ Well,  there’s  the  quarter  chiming  now ; we’ve  no  time  to 
lose. — Major  Jones  ! Major  darling  ! don’t  now,  ah,  don’t ! sure 
ye  know  we’ll  be  ruined  entirely — there  now,  just  change  it, 
like  a dacent  fellow — the  devil’s  luck  to  him,  he’s  gone.  Well, 
we  can’t  stay  here  in  the  rain  all  night,  and  be  expelled  in  the 
morning  afterwards — so  come  along.” 

They  jogged  along  for  a few  minutes  in  silence,  till  they  came 
to  that  part  of  the  “ Duke’s  ” demesne  wall,  where  the  first  sen- 
try was  stationed.  By  this  time  the  officers,  headed  by  the  ma- 
jor, had  quietly  slipped  out  of  the  gate,  and  were  following  their 
steps  at  a convenient  distance. 

The  fathers  had  stopped  to  consult  together  what  they  should 
do  in  this  trying  emergency — when  their  whisper  being  over- 
heard, the  sentinel  called  out  gruffly,  in  the  genuine  dialect  of 
his  country,  “ Who  goes  that?” 

“ Father  Luke  Mooney,  and  the  Abbe  D’Array,”  said  the  for- 
mer, in  his  most  bland  and  insinuating  tone  of  voice,  a quality 
he  most  eminently  possessed. 

“ Stand  and  give  the  countersign.” 

“ We  are  coming  from  the  mess,  and  going  home  to  the  col- 
lege,” said  Father  Mooney,  evading  the  question,  and  gradually 
advancing  as  he  spoke. 

“ Stand,  or  I’ll  shot  ye,”  said  the  North  Corkian. 

Father  Luke  halted,  while  a muttered  “Blessed  Virgin  ! ” an- 
nounced his  state  of  fear  and  trepidation. 

“ D’Array,  I say,  what  are  we  to  do  ? ” 

“ The  countersign,”  said  the  sentry,  whose  figure  they  could 
perceive  in  the  dim  distance  of  about  thirty  yards. 

“ Sure  ye’ll  let  us  pass,  my  good  lad,  and  ye’ll  have  a friend  in 
Father  Luke  the  longest  day  ye  live,  and  ye  might  have  a worse 
in  time  of  need  ; ye  understand.” 

Whether  he  did  understand  or  not,  he  certainly  did  not  heed, 
for  his  only  reply  was  the  short  click  of  a gun-lock,  that  bespeaks 
a preparation  to  fire. 

“ There’s  no  help  now,”  said  Father  Luke  ; “ I see  he’s  a hay- 
then  ; and  bad  luck  to  the  major,  I say  again.”  And  this,  in 
the  fulness  of  his  heart,  he  uttered  aloud. 

“That’s  not  the  countersign,”  said  the  inexorable  sentry, 
striking  the  butt-end  of  his  musket  on  the  ground  with  a crash 
that  smote  terror  into  the  hearts  of  the  priests. 

Mumble— mumble “ to  the  Pope,”  said  Father  Luke,  pro- 

nouncing the  last  words  distinctly,  after  the  approved  practice 


5§ 


HARRY  LORREQVER. 


of  a Dublin  watchman,  on  being  awoke  from  his  dreams  of  row 
and  riot  by  the  last  toll  of  the  Post-office,  and  not  knowing 
whether  it  has  struck  “ twelve  ” or  “ three,”  sings  out  the  word 
“ o’clock,”  in  a long  sonorous  drawl,  that  wakes  every  sleeping 
citizen,  and  yet  tells  nothing  how  “ Time  speeds  on  his 
flight.” 

“ Louder,”  said  the  sentry,  in  a voice  of  impatience. 

“ to  the  Pope.” 

“ I don’t  hear  the  first  part.” 

“ Oh,  then,”  said  the  priest,  with  a sigh  that  might  have  melted 
the  heart  of  anything  but  a sentry,  “ Bloody  end  to  the  Pope  ; 
and  may  the  saints  in  heaven  forgive  me  for  saying  it.” 

“ Again,”  called  out  the  soldier;  “ and  no  muttering.” 

“ Bloody  end  to  the  Pope,”  cried  Father  Luke,  in  bitter  des- 
peration. 

“ Bloody  end  to  the  Pope,”  echoed  the  Abbd. 

“ Pass,  Bloody  end  to  the  Pope,  and  good-night,”  said  the 
sentry,  resuming  his  rounds,  while  a loud  and  uproarious  peal  of 
laughter  behind  told  the  unlucky  priests  they  were  overheard  by 
others,  and  that  the  story  would  be  over  the  whole  town  in  the 
morning. 

Whether  it  was  that  the  penance  for  their  heresy  took  long  in 
accomplishing,  or  that  they  never  could  summon  courage  suffi- 
cient to  face  their  persecutor,  certain  it  is  the  North  Cork  saw 
them  no  more,  nor  were  they  ever  observed  to  pass  the  precincts 
of  the  college  while  that  regiment  occupied  Maynooth. 

Major  Jones  himself,  and  his  confederates,  could  not  have 
more  heartily  relished  this  story,  than  did  the  party  to  whom  the 
doctor  related  it.  Much,  if  not  all  the  amusement  it  afforded, 
however,  resulted  from  his  inimitable  mode  of  telling,  and  the 
power  of  mimicry  with  which  he  conveyed  the  dialogue  with  the 
sentry  : and  this,  alas,  must  be  lost  to  my  readers — at  least  to 
that  portion  of  them  not  fortunate  enough  to  possess  Dr.  Finu- 
cane’s  acquaintance. 

“Fin!  Fin!  your  long  story  has  nearly  famished  me,”  said 
the  padre,  as  the  laugh  subsided ; “ and  there  you  sit  now  with 
the  jug  at  your  elbow  this  half-hour  ; I never  thought  you  would 
forget  our  old  friend  Martin  Hanegan’s  aunt.” 

“ Here’s  to  her  health,”  said  Fin;  “ and  your  reverence  will 
give  us  the  chant.” 

“Agreed,”  said  Father  Malachi,  finishing  a bumper;  and 
after  giving  a few  preparatory  hems,  he  sang  the  following 
“ singularly  wild  and  beautiful  poem,”  as  some  one  calls 
Christabel : 


THE  PRIESTS  SUPPER . 


59 


s Here’s  a health  to  Martin  Ilanegan’s  aunt, 

And  I’ll  tell  ye  the  reason  why ! 

She  eats  bekase  she  is  hungry 
And  drinks  bekase  she  is  dry. 

And  if  ever  a man, 

Stopped  the  course  of  a can, 

Martin  Hanegan’s  aunt  would  cry — 

* Arrah,  fill  up  your  glass, 

And  let  the  jug  pass ; 

How  d’ye  know  but  your  neighbor’s  dhry?’ 

“ Come,  my  lord  and  gentlemen,  da  capo , if  ye  please — 1 Fill 
up  your  glass/  ” etc. ; and  the  chanson  was  chorused  with  a 
strength  and  vigor  that  would  have  astonished  the  Philharmonic. 

The  mirth  and  fun  now  grew  “ fast  and  furious  ; ” and  Father 
Malachi,  rising  with  the  occasion,  flung  his  reckless  drollery 
and  fun  on  every  side,  sparing  none,  from  his  cousin  to  the 
coadjutor.  It  was  now  that  peculiar  period  in  the  evening’s 
enjoyment,  when  an  expert  and  practical  chairman  gives  up  all 
interference  or  management,  and  leaves  everything  to  take  its 
course  , this,  then,  was  the  happy  moment  selected  by  Father 
Malachi  to  propose  the  little  “ contribution.”  He  brought  a 
plate  from  a side-table,  and  placing  it  before  him,  addressed 
the  company  in  a very  brief  but  sensible  speech,  detailing  the 
object  of  the  institution  he  was  advocating,  and  concluding  with 
the  following  words  : — “ And  now  ye’ll  just  give  whatever  ye 
like,  according  to  your  means  in  life,  and  what  ye  can  spare.” 

The  admonition,  like  the  “ morale  ” of  an  income  tax,  having 
the  immediate  effect  of  pitting  each  man  against  his  neighbor, 
and  suggesting  to  their  already  excited  spirits  all  the  ardor  of 
gambling,  without,  however,  the  prospect  of  gain.  The  plate 
was  first  handed  to  me  in  honor  of  my  “ rank,”  and  having  de- 
posited upon  it  a handful  of  small  silver,  the  priest  ran  his  fin- 
gers through  the  coin,  and  called  out : 

“ Five  pounds ! at  least ; not  a farthing  less,  as  I am  a sin- 
ner. Look,  then — see,  now;  they  tell  ye,  the  gentlemen  don’t 
care  for  the  like  of  ye  ! but  see  for  yourselves.  May  I trouble 
y’r  lordship  to  pass  the  plate  to  Mr.  Mahony— he’s  impatient, 
I see.” 

Mr.  Mahony,  about  whom  I perceived  very  little  of  the  im- 
patience alluded  to,  was  a grim-looking  old  Christian,  in  a rab- 
bit-skin waistcoat,  with  long  flaps,  who  fumbled  in  the  recesses 
of  his  breeches-pocket  for  five  minutes,  and  then  drew  forth 
three  shillings,  which  he  laid  upon  the  plate,  with  what  I fancied 
very  much  resembled  a sigh. 

“ Six  and  sixpence,  is  it  ? or  five  shillings  ? — all  the  same,  Mr. 


6o 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


Mahony,  and  I’ll  not  forget  the  thrifle  you  were  speaking  about 
this  morning,  any  way.”  And  here  he  leaned  over  as  interced- 
ing with  me  for  him,  but  in  reality  to  whisper  into  my  ear,  “ The 
greatest  miser  from  this  to  Castlebar.” 

“ Who’s  that  put  down  the  half  guinea  in  goold  ? ” — (and  this 
time  he  spoke  truth) — “ who’s  that,  I say  ? ” 

“ Tim  Kennedy,  your  reverence,”  said  Tim,  stroking  his  hair 
down  with  one  hand,  and  looking  proud  and  modest  at  the 
same  moment. 

“ Tim,  ye’re  a credit  to  us  any  day,  and  I always  said  so.  It’s 
a gauger  he’d  like  to  be,  my  lord,”  said  he,  turning  to  me  in  a 
kind  of  stage  whisper.  I nodded  and  muttered  something, 
when  he  thanked  me  most  profoundly  as  if  his  suit  had  pros- 
pered. 

“ Mickey  Oulahan — the  lord’s  looking  at  ye,  Mickey.”  This 
was  said  pianissimo  across  the  table,  and  had  the  effect  of  in- 
creasing Mr.  Oulahan’s  donation  from  five  shillings  to  seven — 
the  last  two  being  pitched  in  very  much  in  the  style  of  a gam- 
bler making  his  final  coup,  and  crying,  uVa  banque /”  “ The 

Oulahans  were  always  dacent  people — dacent  people,  my 
lord.” 

“ Be  gorra,  the  Oulahans  was  niver  dacenter  nor  the  Molow- 
neys,  any  how,”  said  a tall  athletic  young  fellow,  as  he  threw 
down  three  crown  pieces,  with  an  energy  that  made  every  coin 
leap  from  the  plate. 

“ They’ll  do  now,”  said  Father  Brennan ; “I’ll  leave  them  to 
themselves.”  And  truly  the  eagerness  to  get  the  plate  and 
put  down  the  subscription  fully  equalled  the  rapacious  anxiety 
of  a thirty-shilling  pool,  be  the  same  more  or  less,  which  lin- 
gered on  its  way  to  her,  in  the  hands  of  many  a fair  com- 
petitor. 

“ Mr.  M‘Neesh  ” — Curzon  had  hitherto  escaped  all  notice — 
“ Mr.  M‘Neesh,  to  your  good  health,”  cried  Father  Brennan. 
“ It’s  many  a secret  they’ll  be  getting  out  o’  ye  down  there  about 
the  Scotch  husbandry.” 

Whatever  poor  Curzon  knew  of  “ drills,”  certainly  did  not 
extend  to  them  when  occupied  by  turnips.  This  allusion  of 
the  priest’s  being  caught  up  by  the  party  at  the  foot  of  the 
table,  they  commenced  a series  of  inquiries  into  different  Scotch 
plans  of  tillage — his  brief  and  unsatisfactory  answers  to  which, 
they  felt  sure,  were  given  in  order  to  evade  imparting  informa- 
tion. By  degrees,  as  they  continued  to  press  him  with  ques- 
tions, his  replies  grew  more  short,  and  a general  feeling  of  dislike 
on  both  sides  was  not  very  long  in  following. 

The  father  saw  this,  and  determining,  with  his  usual  tact,  to 


THE  PRIEST'S  SUPPER. 


61 

repress  it,  called  on  the  adjutant  for  a song.  Now,  whether  he 
had  but  one  in  the  world,  or  whether  he  took  this  mode  of  re- 
taliating for  the  annoyances  he  had  suffered,  I know  not ; but 
true  it  is,  he  finished  his  tumbler  at  a draught,  and  with  a voice 
of  no  very  peculiar  sweetness,  though  abundantly  loud  began, 
“ The  Boyne  Water.” 

He  had  just  received  the  word  “ battle,”  in  the  second  line, 
upon  which  he  was  bestowing  what  he  meant  to  be  a shake, 
when,  as  if  the  word  suggested  it,  it  seemed  the  signal  for  a gen- 
eral engagement.  Decanters,  glasses,  jugs,  candlesticks, — ay, 
and  the  money-dish, — flew  right  and  left,  all  originally  intended, 
it  is  true,  for  the  head  of  the  luckless  adjutant,  but  as  they  now 
and  then  missed  their  aim,  and  came  in  contact  with  the  “ wrong 
man,”  invariably  provoked  retaliation,  and  in  a very  few  minutes 
the  battle  became  general. 

What  may  have  been  the  doctor’s  political  sentiments  on  this 
occasion,  I cannot  even  guess  ; but  he  seemed  bent  upon  per- 
forming part  of  a “ convivial  Lord  Stanley,”  and  maintaining  a 
dignified  neutrality.  With  this  apparent  object,  he  mounted 
upon  the  table,  to  raise  himself,  I suppose,  above  the  din  and 
commotion  of  party  clamor,  and  brandishing  a jug  of  scalding 
water,  bestowed  it  with  perfect  impartiality  on  the  combatants 
on  either  side.  This  Whig  plan  of  conciliation,  however  well- 
intended,  seemed  not  to  prosper  with  either  party ; and  many 
were  the  missiles  directed  at  the  ill-starred  doctor.  Meanwhile 
Father  Malachi,  whether  following  the  pacific  instinct  of  his 
order,  in  seeking  an  asylum  in  troublesome  times,  or  equally 
moved  by  old  habit  to  gather  coin  in  low  places  (much  of  the 
money  having  fallen),  was  industriously  endeavoring  to  insert 
himself  beneath  the  table.  In  this,  with  one  vigorous  push,  he 
at  last  succeeded,  but  in  so  doing  lifted  it  from  its  legs,  and 
thus  destroying  poor  “ Fin’s  ” gravity,  precipitated  him,  jug  and 
all,  into  the  thickest  of  the  fray,  where  he  met  with  that  kind 
reception  such  a benefactor  ever  receives  at  the  hands  of  a 
grateful  public.  I meanwhile  hurried  to  rescue  poor  Curzon, 
who,  having  fallen  to  the  ground,  was  getting  a cast  of  his  feat- 
ures taken  in  pewter,  for  such  seemed  the  operation  a stout 
farmer  was  performing  on  the  adjutant’s  face  with  a quart. 
With  considerable  difficulty,  notwithstanding  my  supposed  “ lord- 
ship  ” I succeeded  in  freeing  him  from  his  present  position  ; 
and  he  concluding,  probably,  that  enough  had  been  done  for 
one  “ sitting,”  most  willingly  permitted  me  to  lead  him  from  the 
room.  I was  soon  joined  by  the  doctor,  who  assisted  me  in 
getting  my  poor  friend  to  bed  ; which  being  done,  he  most 
eagerly  entreated  me  to  join  the  company.  This,  however,  I 


62 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


firmly  but  mildly  declined,  very  much  to  his  surprise  ; for  as  he 
remarked  “ They’ll  all  be  like  lambs  now,  for  they  don’t  believe 
there’s  a whole  bone  in  his  body.” 

Expressing  my  deep  sense  of  the  Christian-like  forbearance 
of  the  party,  I pleaded  fatigue,  and  bidding  him  good-night,  ad- 
journed to  my  bedroom  ; and  here,  although  the  arrangements 
fell  somewhat  short  of  the  luxurious  ones  appertaining  to  my 
late  apartment  at  Callonby,  they  were  most  grateful  at  the  mo- 
ment ; and  having  “ addressed  myself  to  slumber,”  fell  fast  asleep, 
and  only  awoke  late  on  the  following  morning  to  wonder  where 
I was  ; from  any  doubts  as  to  which  I was  speedily  relieved  by 
the  entrance  of  the  priest’s  bare-footed  “ colleen,”  to  deposit 
on  my  table  a bottle  of  soda  water,  and  announce  breakfast, 
with  his  reverence’s  compliments. 

Having  made  a hasty  toilet,  I proceeded  to  the  parlor, 
which,  however  late  events  might  have  impressed  upon  my 
memory,  I could  scarcely  recognize.  Instead  of  the  long  oak 
table  and  the  wassail  bowl,  there  stood  near  the  fire,  a small 
round  table,  covered  with  a snow-white  cloth,  upon  which  shone 
in  unrivalled  brightness  a very  handsome  tea-equipage — the  hiss- 
ing kettle  on  one  hob  was  balanced  by  a gridiron  with  three 
newly  taken  trout,  frying  under  the  reverential  care  of  Father 
Malachi  himself — a heap  of  eggs,  ranged  like  shot  in  an  ordance 
yard,  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  table,  while  a formidable  pile 
of  buttered  toast  browned  before  the  grate — the  morning  papers 
were  airing  upon  the  hearth  : everything  bespoke  that  attention 
to  comfort  and  enjoyment  one  likes  to  discover  in  the  house 
where  chance  may  have  domesticated  him  for  a day  or  two. 

“ Good  morning,  Mr.  Lorrequer.  I trust  you  have  rested 
well,”  said  Father  Malachi,  as  I entered. 

“ Never  better  ; but  where  are  our  friends  ? ” 

“ I have  been  visiting  and  comforting  them  in  their  affliction, 
and  I may  with  truth  assert  it  is  not  often  my  fortune  to  have 
three  as  sickly-looking  guests.  That  was  a most  unlucky  affair 

last  night,  and  I must  apologize ” 

“ Don’t  say  a word,  I entreat ; I saw  how  it  all  occurred,  and 
am  quite  sure  if  it  had  not  been  for  poor  Curzon’s  ill-timed  mel- 
ody  ” 

“ You  are  quite  right,”  said  the  father,  interrupting  me. 
“ Your  friend’s  taste  for  music — bad  luck  to  it ! — was  the 
1 teterrima  causa  belli?  ” 

“ And  the  subscription,”  said  I ; “ how  did  it  succeed  ? ” 

“ Oh,  the  money  went  in  the  commotion  ; and  although  I 
have  got  some  seven  pounds  odd  shillings  of  it,  the  war  was  a 
most  expensive  one  to  me.  I caught  old  Mahony  very  busy  urn 


THE  PRIEST'S  SUPPER. 


63 


der  the  table  during  the  fray ; but  let  us  say  no  mor*e  about  it 
now — draw  over  your  chair.  Tea  or  coffee  ? there’s  the  rum  if 
you  like  it.  in  French  fashion.” 

I immediately  obeyed  the  injunction,  and  commenced  a vig- 
orous assault  upon  the  trout,  caught,  as  he  informed  me,  “ within 
twenty  perches  of  the  house.” 

“ Your  poor  friend’s  nose  is  scarcely  regimental,”  said  he, 
“ this  morning  ; and  as  for  Fin,  he  was  never  remarkable  for 
beauty,  so,  though  they  might  cut  and  hack,  they  could  scarcely 
disfigure  him.  As  Juvenal  says— isn’t  it  Juvenal  ? — 

‘ Cantabit  vacuus  coram  latrone  viator ; ’ 
or,  in  the  vernacular : 

‘ The  empty  traveller  may  whistle 
Before  the  robber  and  his  pistil  ’ (pistol). 

There’s  the  Chili  vinegar — another  morsel  of  the  trout  ? ” 

“ I thank  you  ; what  excellent  coffee,  Father  Malachi ! ” 

“ A secret  I learned  at  St.  Omer’s  some  thirty  years  since. 
Any  letters,  Bridget  ? ” — to  a damsel  that  entered  with  a packet 
in  her  hand. 

“ A gossoon  from  Kilrusk,  y’r  reverence,  with  a bit  of  a note 
for  the  gentleman  there.” 

“ For  me  ! — ah,  true  enough.  4 Harry  Lorrequer,  Esq.,  Kil- 
rush. — Try  Carrigaholt.’  ” So  ran  the  superscription — the  first 
part  being  in  a lady’s  handwriting ; the  latter  very  like  the 
“ rustic  paling  ” of  the  worthy  Mrs.  Healy’s  style.  The  seal 
was  a large  one,  bearing  a coronet  at  top,  and  the  motto,  in  old 
Norman-French,  told  me  it  came  from  Callonby. 

With  what  a trembling  hand  and  beating  heart  I broke  it 
open,  and  yet  feared  to  read  it — so  much  of  my  destiny  might 
be  in  that  simple  page.  For  once  in  my  life  my  sanguine  spirit 
failed  me ; my  mind  could  take  in  but  one  casualty,  that  Lady 
Jane  had  divulged  to  her  family  the  nature  of  my  attentions, 
and  that  in  the  letter  before  me  lay  a cold  mandate  of  dismissal 
from  her  presence  for  ever. 

At  last  I summoned  courage  to  read  it ; but  having  scrupled 
to  present  to  my  readers  the  Reverend  Father  Brennan  at  the 
end  of  a chapter,  let  me  not  be  less  punctilious  in  the  introduc- 
tion of  her  ladyship’s  billet 


HARRY  LORREQUER . 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  LADY’S  LETTER — PETER  AND  HIS  ACQUAINTANCES TOO 

LATE. 

Her  ladyship’s  letter  ran  thus  : 

“Callonby,  Tuesday  morning. 

“ My  dear  Mr.  Lorrequer, — My  lord  has  deputed  me  to 
convey  to  you  our  adieux,  and  at  the  same  time  express  our  very 
great  regret  that  we  should  not  have  seen  you  before  our  de- 
parture from  Ireland.  A sudden  call  of  the  House,  and  some 
unexpected  ministerial  changes,  require  Lord  Callonby’s  imme- 
diate presence  in  town  ; and  probably  before  this  reaches  you 
we  shall  be  on  the  road.  Lord  Kilkee,  who  left  us  yesterday, 
was  much  distressed  at  not  having  seen  you — he  desired  me  to 
say  you  shall  hear  from  him  from  Leamington.  Although  writ- 
ing amid  all  the  haste  and  bustle  of  departure,  I must  not  for- 
get the  principle  part  of  my  commission,  nor,  ladylike,  defer  it 
to  a postscript ; my  lord  entreats  that  you  will,  if  possible,  pass 
a month  or  two  with  us  in  London  this  season  ; and  if  any  diffi- 
culty should  occur  in  obtaining  leave  of  absence,  to  make  any 
use  of  his  name  you  think  fit  at  the  Horse  Guards,  where  he  has 
some  influence.  Knowing  as  I do  with  what  kindness  you  ever 
accede  to  the  wishes  of  your  friends,  I need  not  say  how  much 
gratification  this  will  afford  us  all ; but  sans  reponse , we  expect 
you.  Believe  me  to  remain,  yours  very  sincerely, 

“ Charlotte  Callonby. 

“ P.S. — We  are  quite  well,  except  Lady  Jane,  who  has  a slight 
cold,  and  has  been  feverish  for  the  last  day  or  two.” 

Words  cannot  convey  any  idea  of  the  torrent  of  contending 
emotions  under  which  I perused  this  letter.  The  suddenness  of 
the  departure,  without  an  opportunity  of  even  a moment’s  leave- 
taking,  completely  unmanned  me.  What  would  I not  have 
given  to  be  able  to  see  her  once  more,  even  for  an  instant — to 
say  “ a good-by  ” — to  watch  the  feeling  with  which  she  parted 
from  me,  and  augur  from  it  either  favorably  to  my  heart’s  dear- 
est hope,  or  darkest  despair.  As  I continued  to  read  on,  the 
kindly  tone  of  the  remainder  reassured  me  ; and  when  I came 
to  the  invitation  to  London,  which  plainly  argued  a wish  on 
their  part  to  perpetuate  the  intimacy,  I was  obliged  to  read  it 
again  and  again  before  I could  convince  myself  of  its  reality, 
There  it  was,  however,  most  distinctly  and  legibly  impressed  in 


TIIE  LADY'S  LETTER. 


65 

her  ladyship’s  fairest  caligraphy  ; and  certainly,  great  as  was  its 
consequence  to  me  at  the  time,  it  by  no  means  formed  the  prin- 
cipal part  of  the  communication.  The  two  lines  of  postscript 
contained  more,  far  more  food  for  hopes  and  fears,  than  did  all 
the  rest  of  the  epistle. 

Lady  Jane  was  ill  then  ; slightly,  however — a mere  cold  ; 
true,  but  she  was  feverish.  I could  not  help  asking  myself 
what  share  had  I in  causing  that  flushed  cheek  and  anxious  eyef 
and  pictured  to  myself,  perhaps  with  more  vividness  than  reality, 
a thousand  little  traits  of  manner,  all  proofs  strong  as  holy  writ 
to  my  sanguine  mind,  that  my  affection  was  returned,  and  that  1 
loved  not  in  vain.  Again  and  again  I read  over  the  entire  letter ; 
never  truly  did  a nisi  prius  lawyer  con  over  a new  act  of  parlia- 
ment with  more  searching  ingenuity,  to  detect  its  hidden  mean- 
ing, than  I did  to  unravel  through  its  plain  phraseology  the  se- 
cret intention  of  the  writer  towards  me. 

There  is  an  old  and  not  less  true  adage,  that  what  we  wish  we 
readily  believe  ; and  so  with  me.  I found  myself  an  easy  con- 
vert to  my  own  hopes  and  desires,  and  actually  ended  by  per- 
suading myself — no  very  hard  task — that  my  Lord  Callonby  had 
not  only  witnessed  but  approved  of  my  attachment  to  his  beauti- 
ful daughter,  and  for  reasons  probably  known  to  him,  but  con- 
cealed from  me,  opined  that  I was  a suitable  “parti”  and  gave 
all  due  encouragement  to  my  suit.  The  hint  about  using  his 
lordship’s  influence  at  the  Horse  Guards  I resolved  to  benefit 
by ; not,  however,  in  obtaining  leave  of  absence,  which  I hoped 
to  accomplish  more  easily,  but  with  his  good  sanction  in  pushing 
my  promotion,  when  I should  claim  him  as  my  right  honorable 
father-in-law — a point  on  the  propriety  of  which  I had  now  fully 
satisfied  myself.  What  visions  of  rising  greatness  burst  upon 
my  mind,  as  I thought  on  the  prospect  that  opened  before  me ! 
but  here  let  me  do  myself  the  justice  to  record,  that  amid  all 
my  pleasure  and  exultation,  my  proudest  thought  was  in  the 
anticipation  of  possessing  one  in  every  way  so  much  my  superior 
— the  very  consciousness  of  which  imparted  a thrill  of  fear  to 
my  heart,  that  such  good  fortune  was  too  much  even  to  hope 
for. 

How  long  I might  have  luxuriated  in  such  Chateaux  en  Es- 
pagne,  Heaven  knows  ; thick  and  thronging  fancies  came  abund- 
antly to  my  mind,  and  it  was  with  something  of  the  feeling  of 
the  porter  in  the  “ Arabian  Nights,”  as  he  surveyed  the  frag- 
ments of  his  broken  ware,  hurled  down  in  a moment  of  glorious 
dreaminess,  that  I turned  to  look  at  the  squat  and  unaristocratic 
figure  of  Father  Malachi,  as  he  sat  reading  his  newspaper 
before  the  fire.  How  came  I in  such  company  ? — methinks  the 
5 


6f 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


Dean  of  Windsor,  or  the  Bishop  of  Durham,  had  been  a much 
more  seemly  associate  for  one  destined  as  I was  for  the  flood- 
tide  of  the  world’s  favor. 

My  eye  at  this  instant  rested  upon  the  date  of  the  letter, 
which  was  that  of  the  preceding  morning,  and  immediately  a 
thought  struck  me  that,  as  the  day  was  a louring  and  gloomy 
one,  perhaps  they  might  have  deferred  their  journey,  and  I at 
once  determined  to  hasten  to  Callonby,  and,  if  possible,  see 
them  before  their  departure. 

“ Father  Brennan,”  said  I at  length,  “ I have  just  received  a 
letter  which  compels  me  to  reach  Kilrush  as  soon  as  possible. 
Is  there  any  public  conveyance  in  the  village  ? ” 

“ You  don’t  talk  of  leaving  us,  surely,”  said  the  priest,  “ and 
a haunch  of  mutton  for  dinner,  and  Fin"  says  he’ll  be  down,  and 
your  friend  too,  and  we’ll  have  poor  Beamish  in  on  a sofa.” 

“ I am  sorry  to  say  my  business  will  not  admit  of  delay,  but, 
if  possible,  I shall  return  to  thank  you  for  all  your  kindness,  in 
a day  or  two — perhaps  to-morrow.” 

“Oh,  then,”  said  Father  Brennan,  “if  it  must  be  so,  why  you 
can  have  6 Pether,’  my  own  pad,  and  a better  you  never  laid  leg 
over  ; only  give  him  his  own  time,  and  let  him  keep  the  ‘ canter,’ 
and  he’ll  never  draw  up  from  morning  till  night.  And  now  I’ll 
just  go  and  have  him  in  readiness  for  you. 

After  professing  my  warm  acknowledgments  to  the  good 
father  for  his  kindness,  I hastened  to  take  a hurried  farewell  of 
Curzon  before  going.  I found  him  sitting  up  in  bed  taking  his 
breakfast ; a large  strip  of  black  plaster,  extending  from  the  cor- 
ner of  one  eye  across  the  nose,  and  terminating  near  the  mouth, 
denoting  the  locale  of  a goodly  wound  ; while  the  blue,  purple, 
and  yellow  patches  into  which  his  face  was  partitioned  out,  left 
you  in  doubt  whether  he  more  resembled  the  knave  of  clubs  or 
a new  map  of  the  Ordnance  survey  ; one  hand  was  wrapped  up 
in  a bandage,  and  altogether  a more  rueful  and  woebegone  look- 
ing  figure  I have  rarely  looked  upon  ; and  most  certainly  I am 
of  opinion  that  the  “ glorious,  pious,  and  immortal  memory  ” 
would  have  brought  pleasanter  recollections  to  Daniel  O’Con- 
nell himself  than  it  did  on  that  morning  to  the  adjutant  of  his 
Majesty’s  4 — th. 

“Ah,  Harry,”  said  he,  as  I entered,  “what  Pandemonium  is 
this  we’ve  got  into  ? Did  you  ever  witness  such  a business  as 
last  night’s  ? ” 

“ Why,  truly,”  said  I,  “ I know  of  no  one  to  blame  but  your- 
self ; surely  you  must  have  known  what  a row  your  infernal  song 
would  bring  on.” 

“ I don’t  know  now  whether  I knew  it  or  not ; but  certainty 


THE  LADY'S  LETTER . 


67 


at  the  moment  I should  have  preferred  anything  to  the  con- 
founded cross-examination  I was  under,  and  was  glad  to  end  it 
by  any  coup  d'etat.  One  wretch  was  persecuting  me  about  green 
crops,  and  another  about  the  feeding  of  bullocks  ; — about  either 
of  which  I knew  as  much  as  a bear  does  of  a ballet.” 

“Well,  truly,  you  caused  a diversion  at  some  expense  to 
your  countenance,  fo.r  I never  beheld  anything ” 

“Stop  there,’’  said  he  ; “you  surely  have  not  seen  the  doc- 
tor— he  beats  me  hollow — they  have  scarcely  left  so  much  hair 
on  his  head  as  would  do  for  an  Indian’s  scalp-lock ; and,  of  a 
verity,  his  aspect  is  awful  this  morning.  He  has  just  been  here, 
and,  by  the  bye,  has  told  me  all  about  your  affair  with  Beamish. 
It  appears  that  somehow  you  met  him  at  dinner,  and  gave  a 
very  flourishing  account  of  a relative  of  his,  who,  you  informed 
him,  was  not  only  selected  for  some  very  dashing  service,  but 
actually  the  personal  friend  of  Picton  ; and,  after  the  family 
having  blazed  the  matter  all  over  Cork,  and  given  a great  enter- 
tainment in  honor  of  their  kinsman,  it  turns  out  that,  on  the  glo- 
rious 18th,  he  ran  away  to  Brussels  faster  than  even  the  French 
to  Charleroi ; for  which  act,  however,  there  was  no  aspersion 
ever  cast  upon  his  courage,  that  quality  being  defended  at  the 
expense  of  his  honesty  ; in  a word,  he  was  the  paymaster  of  his 
company,  and  had  what  Theodore  Hook  calls  an  4 affection  of 
his  chest,’  that  required  change  of  air.  Looking  only  to  the 
running  away  part  of  the  matter,  I unluckily  expressed  some 
regret  that  he  did  not  belong  to  the  North  Cork,  and  I remarked 
the  doctor  did  not  seem  to  relish  the  allusion,  and  as  I only 
now  remember,  it  was  his  regiment,  I suppose  I’m  in  for  more 
mischief.” 

I had  no  time  to  enjoy  Curzon’s  dilemma,  and  had  barely  in- 
formed him  of  my  intended  departure,  when  a voice  from  without 
the  room  proclaimed  that 44  Pether  ” was  ready,  and,  having  com- 
missioned the  adjutant  to  say  the  44  proper  ” to  Mr.  Beamish  and 
the  doctor,  hurried  away,  and  after  a hearty  shake  of  the  hand 
from  Father  Brennan,  and  a faithful  promise  to  return  soon,  I 
mounted  and  set  off. 

Peter’s  pace  was  of  all  others  the  one  least  likely  to  disturb 
the  lucubrations  of  a castle-builder  like  myself;  without  any  ad- 
monition from  whip  or  spur  he  maintained  a steady  and  constant 
canter,  which,  I am  free  to  confess,  was  more  agreeable  to  sit 
than  it  was  graceful  to  behold  ; for  his  head  being  much  lower 
than  his  tail,  he  every  moment  appeared  in  the  attitude  of  a 
diver  about  to  plunge  into  the  water,  and  more  than  once  I had 
misgivings  that  I would  consult  my  safety  better  if  I sat  with  my 
face  to  the  tail ; however,  what  will  not  habit  accomplish  ? be 


68 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


fore  I had  gone  a mile  or  two,  I was  so  lost  in  my  own  reveries 
and  reflections,  that  I knew  nothing  of  my  mode  of  progression, 
and  had  only  thoughts  and  feelings  for  the  destiny  that  awaited 
me.  Sometimes  I would  fancy  myself  seated  in  the  House  of 
Commons  (on  the  ministerial  benches,  of  course),  while  some 
leading  oppositionist  was  pronouncing  a glowing  panegyric  upon 
the  eloquent  and  statesmanlike  speech  of  the  gallant  colonel — 
myself;  then  I thought  I was  making  arrangements  for  setting 
out  for  my  new  appointment,  and  Sancho  Panza  never  coveted 
the  government  of  an  island  more  than  I did,  though  only  a West 
Indian  one ; and,  lastly,  I saw  myself  the  chosen  diplomate  on  a 
difficult  mission,  and  was  actually  engaged  in  the  easy  and  agree- 
able occupation  of  out-manoeuvring  Talleyrand  and  Pozzo  di 
Borgo,  when  Peter  suddenly  drew  up  at  the  door  of  a small 
cabin,  and  convinced  me  that  I was  still  a mortal  man,  and  a 
lieutenant  in  his  Majesty’s  4 — th.  Before  I had  time  afforded 
me  even  to  guess  at  the  reason  of  this  sudden  halt,  an  old  man 
emerged  from  the  cabin,  which  I saw  now  was  a road-side  ale- 
house, and  presented  Peter  with  a bucket  of  meal  and  water,  a 
species  of  “ refresher  ” that  he  evidently  was  accustomed  to  at 
this  place,  whether  bestrode  by  a priest  or  an  ambassador.  Be- 
fore me  lay  a long  straggling  street  of  cabins,  irregularly  thrown, 
as  if  riddled  over  the  ground  ; this  I was  informed  was  Kilkee, 
While  my  good  steed,  therefore,  was  enjoying  his  potation,  I 
dismounted,  to  stretch  my  legs  and  look  about  me  ; and  scarcely 
had  I done  so,  when  I found  half  the  population  of  the  village  as- 
sembled round  Peter,  whose  claims  to  notoriety,  I now  learned, 
depended  neither  upon  his  owner’s  fame,  nor  even  my  tempo- 
rary possession  of  him.  Peter,  in  fact,  had  been  a racer,  once — 
when,  the  Wandering  Jew  might  perhaps  have  told,  had  he 
ever  visited  Clare — for  not  the  oldest  inhabitant  knew  the  date 
of  his  triumphs  on  the  turf ; though  they  were  undisputed  tradi- 
tions, and  never  did  any  man  appear  bold  enough  to  call  them 
in  question.  Whether  it  was  from  his  patriarchal  character,  or 
that  he  was  the  only  race-horse  ever  known  in  his  country,  I can- 
not say,  but,  of  a truth,  the  Grand  Lama  could  scarcely  be  a 
greater  object  of  reverence  in  Thibet  than  was  Peter  in  Kilkee. 

“ Musha,  Peter,  but  it’s  well  y’r  looking,”  cried  one. 

“ Ah,  thin,  maybe  ye  an’t  fat  on  the  ribs,”  cried  another. 

“An’  cockin’  his  tail  like  a coult,”  said  a third. 

I am  very  certain,  if  I might  venture  to  judge  from  the  faces 
about,  that,  had  the  favorite  for  the  St.  Leger  passed  through 
Kilkee  at  that  moment,  comparisons  very  little  to  his  favor  had 
been  drawn  from  the  assemblage  around  me.  With  some  diffi- 
culty I was  permitted  to  reach  my  much-admired  steed,  and  with 


THE  LADY'S  LETTER. 


69 


a cheer,  which  was  sustained  and  caught  up  by  every  denizen  of 
the  village  as  I passed  through,  I rode  on  my  way,  not  a little 
amused  at  my  equivocal  popularity. 

Being  desirous  to  lose  no  time,  I diverged  from  the  straight 
road  which  leads  to  Kilrush,  and  took  a cross  bridle-path  to 
Callonby  : this,  I afterwards  discovered,  was  a detour  of  a mile 
or  two,  and  it  was  already  sunset  when  I reached  the  entrance  to 
the  park.  I entered  the  avenue,  and  now  my  impatience  became 
extreme,  for  though  Peter  continued  to  move  at  the  same  uniform 
pace,  I could  not  persuade  myself  that  he  was  not  foundering  at 
every  step,  and  was  quite  sure  we  were  scarcely  advancing  ; at 
last  I reached  the  wooden  bridge,  and  ascended  the  steep  slope, 
the  spot  where  I had  first  met  her,  on  whom  my  every  thought 
now  rested.  I turned  the  angle  of  the  clump  of  beech  trees  from 
whence  the  first  view  of  the  house  is  caught.  I perceived,  to 
my  inexpressible  delight,  that  gleams  of  light  shot  from  many 
of  the  windows,  and  could  trace  their  passing  from  one  to  the 
other.  I now  drew  rein,  and  with  a heart  relieved  from  a load 
of  anxiety,  pulled  up  my  good  steed,  and  began  to  think  of  the 
position  in  which  a few  brief  seconds  would  place  me.  I reached 
the  small  flower-garden,  sacred  by  a thousand  endearing  recol- 
lections. Oh ! of  how  very  little  account  are  the  many  words  of 
passing  kindness,  and  moments  of  light-hearted  pleasure,  when 
spoken  or  felt,  compared  to  the  memory  of  them  when  hallowed 
by  time  or  distance  ! 

“The  place,  the  hour,  the  sunshine  and  the  shade, ” all  re- 
minded me  of  the  happy  past,  and  all  brought  vividly  before  me 
every  portion  of  that  dream  of  happiness  in  which  I was  so  ut- 
terly, so  completely  steeped — every  thought  of  the  hopelessness 
of  my  passion  was  lost  in  the  intensity  of  it,  and  I did  not,  in 
the  ardor  of  my  loving,  stop  to  think  of  its  possible  success. 

It  was  strange  enough  that  the  extreme  impatience,  the  hurried 
anxiety,  I had  felt  and  suffered  from,  while  riding  up  the  avenue, 
had  now  fled  entirely,  and  in  its  place  I felt  nothing  but  a diffi- 
dent distrust  of  myself,  and  a vague  sense  of  awkwardness  about 
intruding  thus  unexpectedly  upon  the  family,  while  engaged  in 
all  the  cares  and  preparations  for  a speedy  departure.  The 
hall-door  lay  as  usual  wide  open,  the  hall  itself  was  strewn  and 
littered  with  trunks,  imperials,  and  packing-cases,  and  the  hun 
dred  et  ceteras  of  travelling  baggage.  I hesitated  a moment 
whether  I should  not  ring,  but  at  last  resolved  to  enter  unan- 
nounced, and,  presuming  upon  my  intimacy,  see  what  effect  my 
sudden  appearance  would  have  on  Lady  Jane,  whose  feelings 
towards  me  would  be  thus  most  unequivocally  tested.  I passed 
along  the  wide  corridor,  entered  the  music-room — it  was  still. 


7 o 


HARR  Y L ORREQ  UER. 


I walked  then  to  the  door  of  the  drawing-room — I paused — 
I drew  a full  breath — my  hand  trembled  slightly  as  I turned  the 
lock — I entered — the  room  was  empty,  but  the  blazing  fire  upon 
the  hearth,  the  large  armchairs  drawn  round,  the  scattered  books 
upon  the  small  tables,  all  told  that  it  had  been  inhabited  a very 
short  time  before.  “ Ah ! ” thought  I,  looking  at  my  watch, 
“ they  are  at  dinner ; ” and  I began  at  once  to  devise  a hundred 
different  plans  to  account  for  my  late  absence  and  present  visit. 
I knew  that  a few  minutes  would  probably  bring  them  into  the 
drawing-room,  and  I felt  flurried  and  heated  as  the  time  drew 
near.  At  last  I heard  voices  without.  I started  from  the  ex- 
amination of  a pencil  drawing,  partly  finished,  but  the  artist  of 
which  I could  not  be  deceived  in.  I listened — the  sounds  drew 
near — I could  not  distinguish  who  were  the  speakers — the  door- 
lock  turned,  and  I rose  to  make  my  well-conned,  but  half-forgot- 
ten speech  ; and  oh,  confounded  disappointment ! Mrs.  Herbert, 
the  housekeeper,  entered.  She  started,  not  expecting  to  see  me, 
and  immediately  said, — 

“ Oh  ! Mr.  Lorrequer  ! then  you’ve  missed  them  ? ” 

“ Missed  them  ! ” said  I ; “ how — when — where  ? ” 

“ Did  you  not  get  a note  from  my  lord  ? ” 

“ No  ; when  was  it  written  ? ” 

“ Oh  dear  me,  that  is  so  very  unfortunate.  Why,  sir,  my  lord 
sent  off  a servant  this  morning  to  Kilrush,  in  Lord  Kilkee’s  til- 
bury, to  request  you  would  meet  them  all  in  Ennis  this  evening, 
where  they  had  intended  to  stop  for  to-night ; and  they  waited 
here  till  near  four  o’clock  to-day,  but  when  the  servant  came 
back  with  the  intelligence  that  you  were  from  home,  and  not 
expected  to  return  soon,  they  were  obliged  to  set  out,  and  are 
not  going  to  make  any  delay  now,  till  they  reach  London.  The 
last  direction,  however,  my  lord  gave,  was  to  forward  her  lady- 
ship’s letter  to  you  as  soon  as  possible.” 

What  I thought,  said,  or  felt,  might  be  a good  subject  of  con- 
fession to  Father  Malachi,  for  I fear  it  may  be  recorded  among 
my  sins,  as  I doubt  not  that  the  agony  I suffered  vented  itself 
in  no  measured  form  of  speech  or  conduct;  but  I have  nothing 
to  confess  here  on  the  subject,  being  so  totally  overwhelmed 
as  not  to  know  what  I did  or  said.  My  first  gleam  of  reason 
elicited  itself  by  asking, 

“ Is  there,  then,  no  chance  of  their  stopping  in  Ennis  to- 
night ? ” As  I put  the  question,  my  mind  reverted  to  Peter  and 
his  eternal  canter. 

“ Oh  dear  no,  sir;  the  horses  are  ordered  to  take  them,  since 
Tuesday  ; and  they  only  thought  of  staying  in  Ennis,  if  you  came 
time  enough  to  meet  them — and  they  will  be  so  sorry.” 


THE  LADY'S  LETTER. 


n 


u Do  you  think  so,  Mrs.  Herbert?  do  you  indeed  think  so?’ 
said  I,  in  a most  insinuating  tone. 

“ I am  perfectly  sure  of  it,  sir.” 

“ Oh,  Mrs.  Herbert,  you  are  too  kind  to  think  so ; but  perhaps 

— that  is — may  be,  Mrs.  Herbert,  she  said  something ” 

“ Who,  sir  ? ” 

“ Lady  Callonby,  I mean ; did  her  ladyship  leave  any  mes- 
sage for  me  about  her  plants  ? or  did  she  remember ” 

Mrs.  Herbert  kept  looking  at  me  all  the  time,  with  her  great 
wide  gray  eyes,  while  I kept  stammering  and  blushing  like  a 
schoolboy. 

“ No,  sir ; her  ladyship  said  nothing,  sir  ; but  Lady  Jane ” 

“ Yes  ; well,  what  of  Lady  Jane,  my  dear  Mrs.  Herbert  ? ” 

“ Oh,  sir  ! but  you  look  pale  ; would  not  you  like  to  have  a 

little  wine  and  water — or  perhaps ” 

“ No,  thank  you,  nothing  whatever;  I am  just  a little  fa- 
tigued— but  you  were  mentioning ” 

“ Yes,  sir;  I was  saying  that  Lady  Jane  was  mighty  particu- 
lar about  a small  plant ; she  ordered  it  to  be  left  in  her  dressing- 
room.  Though  Collins  told  her  to  have  some  of  the  handsome 
ones  of  the  green-house,  she  would  have  nothing  but  this;  and 
if  you  were  only  to  hear  half  the  directions  she  gave  about  keeping 
it  watered,  and  taking  off  dead  leaves,  you’d  think  her  heart 
was  set  on  it.” 

Mrs.  Herbert  would  have  had  no  cause  to  prescribe  for  my 
paleness  had  she  only  looked  at  me  this  time  ; fortunately,  how- 
ever, she  was  engaged  housekeeper-like,  in  bustling  among  books, 
papers,  etc.,  which  she  had  come  in  for  the  purpose  of  arranging 
and  packing  up.  She  being  left  behind  to  bring  up  the  rear 
and  the  heavy  baggage. 

Very  few  moments’  consideration  were  sufficient  to  show  me 
that  pursuit  was  hopeless.  Whatever  might  have  been  Peter’s 
performance  in  the  reign  of  “ Queen  Anne,”  he  had  now  become, 
like  the  goose  so  pathetically  described  by  my  friend  Lover, 
rather  “ stiff  in  his  limbs,”  and  the  odds  were  fearfully  against 
his  overtaking  four  horses,  starting  fresh  every  ten  miles,  not 
to  mention  their  being  some  hours  in  advance  already.  Hav- 
ing declined  all  Mrs.  Herbert’s  many  kind  offers  anent  food  and 
rest,  I took  a last  lingering  look  at  the  beautiful  picture,  which 
still  held  its  place  in  the  room  lately  mine,  and  hurried  from  a 
place  so  full  of  recollections  ; and,  notwithstanding  the  many 
reasons  I had  for  self-gratulation,  every  object  around  and  about 
filled  me  with  sorrow  and  regret  for  hours  that  had  passed — 
never,  never  to  return. 

It  was  very  late  when  I reached  my  old  quarters  at  Kilrush, 


*2 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


Mrs.  Healy,  fortunately,  was  in  bed  asleep — fortunately,  I say, 
for  had  she  selected  that  occasion  to  vent  her  indignation  for 
my  long  absence,  I greatly  fear  that,  in  my  then  temper,  I 
should  have  exhibited  but  little  of  that  Job-like  endurance  for 
which  I was  once  esteemed.  I entered  my  little  mean-looking 
parlor,  with  its  three  chairs  and  lame  table,  and,  as  I flung  my- 
self upon  the  wretched  substitute  for  a sofa,  and  thought  upon 
the  varied  events  which  a few  weeks  had  brought  about,  it  re- 
quired the  aid  of  her  ladyship’s  letter,  which  I had  open  before 
me,  to  assure  me  I was  not  dreaming. 

The  entire  of  that  night  I could  not  sleep  ; my  destiny  seemed 
upon  its  balance ; and,  whether  the  scale  inclined  to  this  side  or 
tnat,  good  or  evil  fortune  seemed  to  betide  me.  How  many 
were  my  plans  and  resolutions,  and  how  often  abandoned ; 
again  to  be  pondered  over,  and  once  more  given  up  ! The  gray 
dawn  of  the  morning  was  already  breaking,  and  found  me  still 
doubting  and  uncertain.  At  last  the  die  was  thrown  ; I deter- 
mined at  once  to  apply  for  leave  to  my  commanding  officer 
(which  he  could,  if  he  pleased,  give  me,  without  any  application 
to  the  Horse  Guards),  set  out  for  Elton,  tell  Sir  Guy  my  whole 
adventure,  and  endeavor,  by  a more  moving  love-story  than 
ever  graced  even  the  Minerva  Press,  to  induce  him  to  make 
some  settlement  on  me,  and  use  his  influence  with  Lord  Cal- 
lonby  in  my  behalf  ; this  done,  set  out  for  London,  and  then — 
what  then  ? — then  for  the  Morning  Post — 44  orange  flowers  ” — 
“ happy  couple  ” — “ Lord  Callonby’s  seat  in  Hampshire,”  etc. 

“ You  wished  to  be  called  at  five,  sir,”  said  Stubbes. 

“ Yes  ; is  it  five  o’clock?  ” 

44  No,  sir ; but  I heard  you  call  out  something  about  4 four 
horses,’  and  I thought  you  might  be  hurried,  so  I came  in  a 
little  earlier.” 

44  Quite  right,  Stubbes.  Let  me  have  my  breakfast  as  soon 
as  possible,  and  see  that  chestnut  horse  I brough  there  last 
night,  fed.” 

44  And  now  for  it,”  said  I.  After  writing  a hurried  note  to 
Curzon,  requesting  him  to  take  command  of  my  party  at  Kilrush 
till  he  heard  from  me,  and  sending  my  kind  remembrance  to  my 
three  friends,  I despatched  the  epistle  by  my  servant  on  Peter, 
while  I hastened  to  secure  a place  in  the  mail  for  Ennis,  on  the 
box-seat  of  which  let  my  kind  reader  suppose  me  seated,  as, 
wrapping  my  box-coat  around  me,  I lit  my  cigar  and  turned  my 
eyes  towards  Limerick. 


CONG  R A TULA  TIONS. 


73 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

CONGRATULATIONS — SICK  LEAVE — HOW  TO  PASS  THE  BOARD. 

I had  scarcely  seated  myself  to  breakfast  at  Swinburn’s  Hotel 
in  Limerick,  when  the  waiter  presented  me  with  a letter.  As 
my  first  glance  at  the  address  showed  it  to  be  in  Colonel  Car- 
den’s handwriting,  I felt  not  a little  alarmed  for  the  consequences 
of  the  rash  step  I had  taken  in  leaving  my  detachment ; and, 
while  quickly-thronging  fancies  of  arrest  and  court-martial  flitted 
before  me,  I summoned  resolution  at  last  to  break  the  seal,  and 
read  as  follows  : — 

“ My  Dear  Lorrequer,” — “ ‘ Dear  Lorrequer  !’  dear  me,,: 
thought  I,  “ cool,  certainly,  from  one  I have  ever  regarded  as  an 
open  enemy” — “ My  dear  Lorrequer,  I have  just  accidentally 
heard  of  your  arrival  here,  and  hasten  to  inform  you  that,  as  it 
may  not  be  impossible  your  reasons  for  so  abruptly  leaving  your 
detachment  are  known  to  me,  I shall  not  visit  your  breach  of 
discipline  very  heavily.  My  old  and  worthy  friend,  Lord  Cal- 
lonby,  who  passed  through  here  yesterday,  has  so  warmly  inter- 
ested himself  in  your  behalf,  that  I feel  disposed  to  do  all  in 
my  power  to  serve  you  ; independent  of  my  desire  to  do  so  on 
your  own  account.  Come  over  here,  then,  as  soon  as  possible, 
and  let  us  talk  over  your  plans  together. 

“ Believe  me,  most  truly  yours, 

“ Henry  Carden. 

“ Barracks,  io  o’clock.” 

However  mysterious  and  difficult  to  unravel  have  been  some 
of  the  circumstances  narrated  in  these  “ Confessions,”  I do  not 
scruple  to  avow  that  the  preceding  letter  was  to  me  by  far  the 
most  inexplicable  piece  of  fortune  I had  hitherto  met  with. 
That  Lord  Callonby  should  have  converted  one  whom  I believed 
an  implacable  foe  into  a most  obliging  friend,  was  intelligible 
enough,  seeing  that  his  lordship  had  through  life  been  the  pat- 
ron of  the  colonel ; but  why  he  had  so  done,  and  what  commu- 
nications he  could  possibly  have  made  with  regard  to  me,  that 
Colonel  Carden  should  speak  of  “ my  plans  ” and  proffer  assist- 
ance in  them,  was  a perfect  riddle  ; and  the  only  solution,  one 
so  ridiculously  flattering  that  I dared  not  think  of  it.  I read 
and  re-read  the  note  ; misplaced  the  stops  ; canvassed  every  ex- 
pression ; did  all  to  detect  a meaning  different  from  the  obvious 
one,  fearful  of  a self-deception  where  so  much  was  at  stake. 


94 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


Yet  there  it  stood  forth,  a plain,  straightforward  proffer  of  ser- 
vices, for  some  object  evidently  known  to  the  writer ; and  my 
only  conclusion,  from  all,  was  this,  that  “ my  Lord  Callonby 
was  the  gem  of  his  order,  and  had  a most  remarkable  talent  for 
selecting  a son-in-law.” 

I fell  into  a deep  reverie  upon  my  past  life  and  the  prospects 
which  I now  felt  were  opening  before  me.  Nothing  seemed  ex- 
travagant to  hopes  so  well  founded — to  expectations  so  brilliant 
— and,  in  my  mind’s  eye,  I beheld  myself  one  moment  leading 
my  young  and  beautiful  bride  through  the  crowded  salons  of 
Devonshire  House ; and,  at  the  next,  I was  contemplating  the 
excellence  and  perfection  of  my  stud  arrangements  at  Melton, 
for  I resolved  not  to  give  up  hunting.  While  in  this  pleasurable 
exercise  of  my  fancy,  I was  removing  from  before  me  some  of 
the  breakfast  equipage,  or  as  I then  believed  it,  breaking  the 
trees  into  better  groups  upon  my  lawn,  I was  once  more  brought 
to  the  world  and  its  dull  reality  by  the  following  passage,  which 
my  eye  fell  upon  in  the  newspaper  before  me  : “ We  understand 
that  the  4 — th  are  daily  expecting  the  route  for  Cork,  from 
whence  they  are  to  sail,  early  in  the  ensuing  month,  for  Halifax, 
to  relieve  the  88th.”  While  it  did  not  take  a moment’s  consid- 
eration to  show  me  that  though  the  regiment  there  mentioned 
was  the  one  I belonged  to,  I could  have  no  possible  interest  in 
the  announcement — it  never  coming  into  my  calculation  that  1 
should  submit  to  such  expatriation — yet  it  gave  me  a salutary 
warning  that  there  was  no  time  to  be  lost  in  making  my  appli- 
ation  for  leave,  which,  once  obtained,  I should  have  ample  time 
to  manage  an  exchange  into  another  corps.  The  wonderful  re- 
volution a few  days  had  effected  in  all  my  tastes  and  desires 
did  not  escape  me  at  this  moment.  But  a week  or  two  before, 
and  I should  have  regarded  an  order  for  foreign  service  as  any- 
thing rather  than  unpleasant  ; now,  the  thought  was  insupporta 
ble.  Then,  there  would  have  been  some  charm  to  me  in  the 
very  novelty  of  the  locale,  and  the  indulgence  of  that  vagrant 
spirit  I have  ever  possessed — for,  like  Justice  Woodcock,  “ I 
certainly  should  have  been  a vagabond  if  Providence  had  not 
made  me  a justice  of  the  peace  ” — now,  I could  not  even  con- 
template the  thing  as  possible ; and  would  actually  have  refused 
the  command  of  a regiment,  if  the  condition  of  its  acceptance 
were  to  sail  for  the  colonies. 

Besides,  I tried — and  how  ingenious  is  self-deception — I 
tried  to  find  arguments  in  support  of  my  determination  totally 
different  from  the  reasons  which  governed  me.  I affected  to 
fear  climate,  and  to  dread  the  effect  of  the  tropics  upon  my 
health.  “ It  may  do  very  well,’5  thought  I,  “ for  men  totally 


CONG R A TULA  TIONS. 


7 S' 

destitute  of  better  prospects,  with  neither  talent,  influence,  nor 
powerful  connection,  to  roast  their  cheeks  at  Sierra  Leone,  or 
suck  a sugar-cane  at  St.  Lucia.  But  that  you,  Harry  Lorrequer, 
should  waste  your  sweetness  upon  planters’  daughters — that 
have  only  to  be  known  to  have  the  world  at  your  feet ! The 
thing  is  absurd,  and  not  to  be  thought  of ! “ Yes,”  said  I,  half 

aloud,  “ we  read  in  the  army  list  that  Major  A.  is  appointed  to 
the  50th,  and  Captain  B.  to  the  12th ; but  how  much  more  near 
the  truth  would  it  be  to  say,  4 That  his  Majesty,  in  consideration 
of  the  distinguished  services  of  the  one,  has  been  graciously 

pleased  to  appoint  him  to a case  of  blue  and  collapsed 

cholera,  in  India ; and  also  for  the  bravery  and  gallant  conduct 
of  the  other,  in  his  late  affair  with  the  44  How-do w-dallah  In- 
dians,” has  promoted  him  to  the yellow  fever  now  devastat- 

ing^ and  desolating  Jamaica?’  ” How  far  my  zeal  for  the  ser- 
vice might  have  carried  me  on  this  point  I know  not,  for  I was 
speedily  aroused  from  my  musings  by  the  loud  tramp  of  feet 
upon  the  stairs,  and  the  sound  of  many  well-known  voices  of  my 
brother  officers,  who  were  coming  to  visit  me. 

44  So,  Harry,  my  boy,”  said  the  fat  major,  as  he  entered,  44  is 
it  true  we  are  not  to- have  the  pleasure  of  your  company  to  Ja- 
maica this  time  ? ” 

44  He  prefers  a pale  face,  it  seems,  to  a black  one , and  cer- 
tainly, with  thirty  thousand  in  the  same  scale,  the  taste  is  excus- 
able.” 

44  But,  Lorrequer,”  said  a third,  44  we  heard  that  you  had  can- 
vassed the  county  on  the  Callonby  interest.  Why,  man,  where 
do  you  mean  to  pull  up  ? ” 

44  As  for  me,”  lisped  a large-eyed,  white-haired  ensign  of  three 
months’  standing,  44 1 think  it  devilish  hard  old  Carden  didn’t 
send  me  down  there  too,  for  I hear  there  are  two  girls  in  the 
family.  Eh,  Lorrequer  ? ” 

Having,  with  all  that  peculiar  bashfulness  such  occasions  are 
sure  to  elicit,  disclaimed  the  happiness  my  friends  so  clearly  as- 
cribed to  me,  I yet  pretty  plainly  let  it  be  understood  that  the 
more  brilliant  they  supposed  my  present  prospects  to  be,  the 
more  near  were  they  to  estimate  them  justly.  One  thing  cer- 
tainly gratified  me  throughout.  All  seemed  rejoiced  at  my  good 
fortune,  and  even  the  old  Scotch  paymaster  made  no  more 
caustic  remark  than  that  he  44  wad  na  wonder  if  the  chiel’s 
black  whiskers  wad  get  him  made  governor  of  Stirling  Castle 
before  he’d  dee.” 

Should  any  of  my  most  patient  listeners  to  these  my  humble 
44  Confessions  ” wonder,  either  here  or  elsewhere,  upon  what 
very  slight  foundations  I built  these  my  44  Chateaux  en  Es- 


76 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


pagne,”  I have  only  one  answer — “ that  from  my  boyhood  I 
have  had  a taste  for  florid  architecture,  and  would  rather  have 
put  up  with  any  inconvenience  of  ground,  than  not  build  at  all.” 
As  it  was  growing  late,  I hurriedly  bade  adieu  to  my  friends, 
and  hastened  to  Colonel  Carden’s  quarters,  where  I found  him 
waiting  for  me,  in  company  with  my  old  friend,  Fitzgerald,  our 
regimental  surgeon.  Our  first  greetings  over,  the  colonel  drew 
me  aside  into  a window,  and  said  that,  from  certain  expressions 
Lord  Callonby  had  made  use  of — certain  hints  he  had  dropped 
— he  was  perfectly  aware  of  the  delicate  position  in  which  I 
stood  with  respect  to  his  lordship’s  family.  “ In  fact,  my  dear 
Lorrequer,”  he  continued,  “ without  wishing  in  the  least  to  ob- 
trude myself  upon  your  confidence,  I must  yet  be  permitted  to 
say,  you  are  the  luckiest  fellow  in  Europe,  and  I most  sincerely 
congratulate  you  on  the  prospect  before  you.” 

“ But,  my  dear  colonel,  I assure  jfou ” 

“ Well,  well,  there — not  a word  more ; don’t  blush  now.  I 
know  there  is  always  a kind  of  secrecy  thought  necessary  on 
these  occasions,  for  the  sake  of  other  parties ; so  let  us  pass  to 
your  plans.  From  what  I have  collected,  you  have  not  pro- 
posed formally.  But,  of  course,  you  desire  a leave.  You’ll  not 
quit  the  army,  I trust ; no  necessity  for  that ; such  influence  as 
yours  can  always  appoint  you  to  an  unattached  commission.” 

“ Once  more  let  me  protest,  sir,  that  though  for  certain  rea- 
sons most  desirous  to  obtain  a leave  of  absence,  I have  not  the 
most  remote ” 

“ That’s  right,  quite  right ; I am  sincerely  gratified  to  hear 
you  say  so,  and  so  will  be  Lord  Callonby  ; for  he  likes  the 
service.” 

And  thus  was  my  last  effort  at  a disclaimer  cut  short  by  the 
loquacious  little  colonel,  who  regarded  my  unfinished  sentence 
as  a concurrence  with  his  own  opinion. 

“ Allah  il  Allah”  thought  I “ it  is  my  Lord  Callonby’s  own 
plot ; and  his  friend  Colonel  Carden  aids  and  abets  him.” 

“ Now,  Lorrequer,”  resumed  the  colonel,  “ let  us  proceed. 
You  have,  of  course,  heard  that  we  are  are  ordered  abroad; 
mere  newspaper  report  for  the  present ; nevertheless,  it  is  ex- 
tremely difficult — almost  impossible — without  a sick  certificate, 
to  obtain  a leave  sufficiently  long  for  your  purpose.” 

And  here  he  smirked,  and  I blushed,  selon  les  regies . 

“ A sick  certificate,”  said  I,  in  some  surprise. 

“ The  only  thing  for  you,”  said  Fitzgerald,  taking  a long  pinch 
of  snuff ; “ and  I grieve  to  say  you  have  a most  villanous  look  of 
good  health  about  you.” 

a I must  acknowledge  I have  seldom  felt  better.” 


CONG R A TULA  TIONS. 


77 


“ So  much  the  worse — so  much  the  worse,”  said  Fitzgerald, 
despondingly.  “ Is  there  no  family  complaint ; no  respectable 
heirloom  of  infirmity  you  can  lay  claim  to  from  your  kin- 
dred ? ” 

“ None  that  I know  of,  unless  a very  active  performance  on 
the  several  occasions  of  breakfast,  dinner,  and  supper,  with  a 
tendency  towards  port,  and  an  inclination  to  sleep  ten  in  every 
twenty-four  hours,  be  a sign  of  sickness.  These  symptoms  I 
have  known  many  of  the  family  suffer  for  years  without  the 
slightest  alleviation,  though,  strange  as  it  may  appear,  they  oc- 
casionally had  medical  advice.” 

Fitz  took  no  notice  of  my  sneer  at  the  faculty,  out  proceeded 
to  strike  my  chest  several  times  with  his  finger  tips.  “ Try  a 
short  cough,  now,”  said  he.  “ Ah,  that  will  never  do  ! Do  you 
ever  flush — before  dinner,  I mean  ? ” 

“ Occasionally,  when  I meet  with  a luncheon.” 

“ I’m  fairly  puzzled,”  said  poor  Fitz,  throwing  himself  into  a 
chair.  “ Gout  is  a very  good  thing  ; but  then  you  see  you  are 
only  a sub.,  and  it  is  clearly  against  the  articles  of  war  to  have 
it  before  being  a field  officer  at  least.  Apoplexy  is  the  best  I 
can  do  for  you ; and,  to  say  the  truth,  any  one  who  witnesses 
your  performance  at  mess  may  put  faith  in  the  likelihood  of  it. 
Do  you  think  you  could  get  up  a fit  for  the  medical  board  ? ” 
said  Fitz,  gravely. 

“ Why,  if  absolutely  indispensable,”  said  I “ and  with  good  in- 
struction— something  this  way.  Eh,  is  it  not  ? ” 

“ Nothing  of  the  kind — you  are  quite  wrong.” 

“ Is  there  not  always  a little  laughing  and  crying  ? ” said  I. 

“ Oh  no,  no ; take  the  cue  from  the  paymaster  any  evening 
after  mess,  and  you’ll  make  no  mistake — very  florid  about  the 
cheeks ; rather  a lazy  look  in  one  eye,  the  other  closed  up  en- 
tirely ; snore  a little  from  time  to  time,  and  don’t  be  too  much 
disposed  to  talk.” 

“ And  you  think  I may  pass  muster  in  this  way  ? ” 

“ Indeed  you  may,  if  old  Camie,  the  inspector,  happen  to  be 
(what  he  is  not  often)  in  a good  humor.  But  I confess  I’d 
rather  you  were  really  ill,  for  we’ve  passed  a great  number 
of  counterfeits  latterly,  and  we  may  be  all  pulled  up  ere 
long.” 

“ Not  the  less  grateful  for  your  kindness,”  said  I ; “ but  still 
I’d  rather  matters  stood  as  they  do.” 

Having  at  length  obtained  a very  formidable  statement  of  my 
“case”  from  the  doctor,  and  a strong  letter  from  the  colonel, 
deploring  the  temporary  loss  of  so  promising  a young  officer,  I 
committed  myself  and  my  portmanteau  to  the  inside  of  his 


78 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


Majesty’s  mail,  and  started  for  Dublin  with  as  light  a heart  and 
high  spirits  as  were  consistent  with  so  much  delicacy  of  health 
and  the  directions  of  my  doctor. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  ROAD — TRAVELLING  ACQUAINTANCES — A PACKET  ADVENTURE. 

I shall  not  stop  now  to  narrate  the  particulars  of  my  visit  to 
the  worthies  of  the  medical  board ; the  rather,  as  some  of  my 
“ Confessions  to  come  ” have  reference  to  Dublin,  and  many  of 
those  that  dwell  therein.  I shall,  therefore,  content  myself  here 
with  stating,  that  without  any  difficulty  I obtained  a six  months’ 
leave,  and  having  received  much  advice  and  more  sympathy 
from  many  members  of  that  body,  took  a respectful  leave  of 
them,  and  adjourned  to  Bilton’s,  where  I had  ordered  dinner, 
and  (as  I was  advised  to  live  low)  a bottle  of  Sneyd’s  clarete. 
My  hours  in  Dublin  were  numbered  ; at  eight  o’clock  on  the 
evening  of  my  arrival  I hastened  to  the  Pigeon  House  pier,  to 
take  my  berth  in  the  packet  for  Liverpool ; and  here,  gentle 
reader,  let  me  implore  you,  if  you  have  bowels  of  compassion,  to 
commiserate  the  condition  of  a sorry  mortal  like  myself.  In  the 
days  of  which  I now  speak,  steam-packets  were  not — men  knew 
not  then  of  the  pleasure  of  going  to  a comfortable  bed  in  Kings- 
town harbor,  and  waking  on  the  morning  after  in  the  Clarence 
dock  at  Liverpool,  with  only  the  addition  of  a little  sharper 
appetite  for  breakfast,  before  they  set  out  on  an  excursion  of  forty 
miles  per  hour  through  the  air. 

In  the  time  I have  now  to  commemorate,  the  intercourse  be- 
tween the  two  countries  was  maintained  by  two  sailing  vessels 
of  small  tonnage  and  still  scantier  accommodation.  Of  the  one 
now  in  question  I well  recollect  the  name — she  was  called  the 
“ Alert,”  and  certainly  a more  unfortunate  misnomer  could 
scarcely  be  conceived.  Well,  there  was  no  choice ; so  I took 
my  place  upon  the  crowded  deck  of  the  little  craft,  and,  in  a 
drizzling  shower  of  chilly  rain,  and  amid  more  noise,  confusion, 
and  bustle  than  would  prelude  the  launch  of  a line-of-battle  ship, 
we  “ sidled,”  goose-fashion,  from  the  shore,  and  began  our  voy- 
age  towards  England. 

It  is  not  my  intention,  in  the  present  stage  of  “my  Confes- 
sions,” to  delay  on  the  road  towards  an  event  which  influenced 
so  powerfully,  and  so  permanently,  my  after-life  ; yet  I cannot 


THE  ROAD . 


79 


refrain  from  chronicling  a slight  incident  which  occurred  on 
board  the  packet,  and  which,  I have  no  doubt,  may  be  remem- 
bered by  some  of  those  who  throw  their  eyes  on  these  pages. 

One  of  my  fellow-passengers  was  a gentleman  holding  a high 
official  appointment  in  the  viceregal  court,  either  comptroller  of 
the  household,  master  of  the  horse,  or  something  else  equally 
magnificent ; however,  whatever  the  nature  of  the  situation, 
one  thing  is  certain — one  possessed  of  more  courtly  manners 
and  more  polished  address  cannot  be  conceived,  to  which  he 
added  all  the  attractions  of  a very  handsome  person  and  a most 
prepossessing  countenance.  The  only  thing  the  most  scrupu- 
lous critic  could  possibly  detect  as  faulty  in  his  whole  air  and 
bearing,  was  a certain  ultra  refinement  and  fastidiousness,  which 
in  a man  of  acknowledged  family  and  connections  was  some- 
what unaccountable,  and  certainly  unnecessary.  The  fastidi- 
ousness I speak  of  extended  to  everything  round  and  about 
him ; he  never  ate  of  the  wrong  dish  nor  spoke  to  the  wrong 
man  in  his  life,  and  that  very  consciousness  gave  him  a kind  of 
horror  of  chance  acquaintances,  which  made  him  shrink  within 
himself  from  persons  in  every  respect  his  equals.  Those  who 
knew  Sir  Stewart  Moore,  will  know  I do  not  exaggerate  in  either 
my  praise  or  censure,  and  to  those  who  have  not  had  that  pleas- 
ure, I have  only  to  say,  theirs  was  the  loss,  and  they  must  take 
my  word  for  the  facts. 

The  very  antithesis  to  the  person  just  mentioned  was  another 
passenger  then  on  board.  She — for  even  in  sex  they  were  dif 
ferent — she  was  a short,  squat,  red-faced,  vulgar-looking  woman, 
of  about  fifty,  possessed  of  a most  garrulous  tendency,  and  talk- 
ing indiscriminately  with  every  one  about  her,  careless  what  re- 
ception her  addresses  met  with,  and  quite  indifferent  to  the 
many  rebuffs  she  momentarily  encountered.  To  me,  by  what 
impulse  driven  Heaven  knows,  this  amorphous  piece  of  woman- 
hood seemed  determined  to  attach  herself.  Whether  in  the 
smoky  and  almost  impenetrable  recesses  of  the  cabin,  or  brav- 
,ng  the  cold  and  penetrating  rain  upon  deck,  it  mattered  not,  she 
was  ever  at  my  side,  and  not  only  martyring  me  by  the  insuffer- 
able annoyance  of  her  vulgar  loquacity,  but  actually,  from  the 
appearance  of  acquaintanceship  such  constant  association  gave 
rise  to,  frightening  any  one  else  from  conversing  with  me,  and 
rendering  me,  ere  many  hours,  a perfect  Pariah  among  the  pas- 
sengers. By  no  one  were  we — for,  alas  ! we  had  become  Siamese 
— so  thoroughly  dreaded  as  by  the  refined  baronet  I have  men- 
tioned ; he  appeared  to  shrink  from  our  very  approach,  and 
avoided  us  as  though  we  had  the  plagues  of  Egypt  about  us.  I 
saw  this — I felt  it  deeply,  and  as  deeply  and  resolutely  I vowed 


80  HARRY  LORREQUER. 

to  be  revenged,  and  the  time  was  not  long  distant  in  affording 
me  the  opportunity. 

The  interesting  Mrs.  Mulrooney,  for  such  was  my  fair  corn- 
panion  called,  was  on  the  present  occasion  making  her  debut  on 
what  she  was  pleased  to  call  the  “ says  : ” she  was  proceeding  to 
the  Liverpool  market  as  proprietor  and  supercargo  over  some 
legion  of  swine  that  occupied  the  hold  of  the  vessel,  and  whose 
mellifluous  tones  were  occasionally  heard  in  all  parts  of  the 
ship.  Having  informed  me  on  these,  together  with  some  cir- 
cumstances of  her  birth  and  parentage,  she  proceeded  to  narrate 
some  of  the  cautions  given  by  her  friends  as  to  her  safety  when 
making  such  a long  voyage,  and  also  to  detail  some  of  the  anti 
septics  to  that  dread  scourge,  sea-sickness,  in  the  fear  and  terror 
of  which  she  had  come  on  board,  and  seemed  every  hour  to  be 
increasing  in  alarm  about. 

“ Do  you  think  then,  sir,  that  pork  is  no  good  agin  the  sick- 
ness ? Mickey,  that’s  my  husband,  sir — says  its  the  only  thing 
in  life  for  it,  av  it’s  toasted.”  > 

“ Not  the  least  use,  I assure  you.” 

“ Nor  sperits  and  wather  ? ” 

“Worse  and  worse,  ma’am.” 

“ Oh,  thin,  maybe  oaten  mail  tay  would  do  ? It’s  a beautiful 
thing  for  the  stomick,  any  how.” 

“ Rank  poison  on  the  present  occasion,  believe  me.” 

“ Oh,  then,  Blessed  Mary,  what  am  I to  do — what  is  to  be- 
come of  me  ? ” 

“Go  down  at  once  to  your  berth,  ma’am  ; lie  still  and  with- 
out speaking  till  we  come  in  sight  of  land  ; or,” — and  here  a 
bright  thought  seized  me — “if  you  really  feel  very  ill,  call  for 
that  man  there,  with  the  fur  collar  on  his  coat;  he  can  give  you 
the  only  thing  I ever  knew  of  any  efficacy  ; he’s  the  steward, 
ma’am,  Stewart  Moore  ; but  you  must  be  on  your  guard,  too,  as 
you  are  a stranger,  for  he’s  a conceited  fellow,  and  has  saved  a 
trifle,  and  sets  up  for  a half  gentleman  ; so  don’t  be  surprised 
at  his  manner  ; though,  after  all,  you  may  find  him  very  differ- 
ent ; some  people,  I’ve  heard,  think  him  extremely  civil.” 

“ And  he  has  a cure,  ye  say  ? ” 

“ The  only  one  I ever  heard  of ; it  is  a little  cordial,  of  which 
you  take,  I don’t  know  how  much,  every  ten  or  fifteen  min- 
utes.” 

“And  the  naygur  doesn’t  let  the  saycret  out,  bad  manners  to 
him  ? ” 

“ No,  ma’am  ; he  has  refused  every  offer  on  the  subject.” 

“ May  I be  so  bowld  as  to  ax  his  name  again  ? ” 

“ Stewart  Moore,  ma’am.  Moore  is  the  name,  but  people  ah 


THE  ROAD . 


Si 


ways  call  him  Stewart  Moore  ; just  say  that  in  a loud,  clear 
voice,  and  you’ll  soon  have  him.” 

With  the  most  profuse  protestations  of  gratitude  and  promises 
of  pork  a discretion , if  ever  I sojourned  at  Ballinasloe,  my  fair 
friend  proceeded  to  follow  my  advice,  and  descended  to  the 
cabin. 

Some  hours  after,  I also  betook  myself  to  my  rest,  from  which, 
however,  towards  midnight,  I was  awoke  by  the  heavy  working 
and  pitching  of  the  little  vessel,  as  she  labored  in  a rough,  sea. 
As  I looked  forth  from  my  narrow  crib,  a more  woebegone  pict- 
ure can  scarcely  be  imagined  than  that  before  me.  Here  and 
there  through  the  gloomy  cabin  lay  the  victims  of  the  fell  mal- 
ady, in  every  stage  of  suffering,  and  in  every  attitude  of  misery. 
Their  cries  and  lamentings  mingled  with  the  creaking  of  the 
bulkheads  and  the  jarring  twang  of  the  dirty  lamp,  whose  irreg- 
ular swing  told  plainly  how  oscillatory  was  our  present  motion. 
I turned  from  the  unpleasant  sight,  and  was  about  again  to  ad- 
dress myself  to  slumber  with  what  success  I might,  when  I 
started  at  the  sound  of  a voice  in  the  very  berth  next  to  me, 
whose  tones,  once  heard,  there  was  no  forgetting.  The  words, 
ran,  as  nearly  as  I can  recollect,  thus  : — 

“ Oh,  then,  bad  luck  to  ye  for  pigs,  that  ever  brought  me  into 
the  like  of  this.  Oh,  Lord,  there  it  is  again.”  And  here  a 
slight  interruption  to  eloquence  took  place,  during  which  I was 
enabled  to  reflect  upon  the  author  of  the  complaint,  who,  I need 
not  say,  was  Mrs.  Mulrooney. 

“ I think  a little  tay  would  settle  my  stomick,  if  I only  could 
get  it ; but  what’s  the  use  of  talking  in  this  horrid  place.  They 
never  mind  me  no  more  than  if  I was  a pig.  Steward,  steward  ! 
— oh,  then,  it’s  wishing  you  well  I am  for  a steward.  Steward, 
I say ! ” and  this  she  really  did  say,  with  an  energy  of  voice 
and  manner  that  startled  more  than  one  sleeper.  “ Oh,  you’re 
coming  at  last,  steward.” 

“ Ma’am,”  said  a little  dapper  and  dirty  personage  in  a blue 
jacket,  with  a greasy  napkin  negligently  thrown  over  one  arm 
ex  officio,  “ ma’am,  did  you  call  ? ” 

“ Call ! — is  it  call  ? No,  but  I’m  roaring  for  you  this  half 
hour.  Come  here.  Have  you  any  of  the  cordial  dhrops  agin 
the  sickness  ? — you  know  what  I mean.” 

“ Is  it  brandy  ma’am  ? ” 

“ No,  it  isn’t  brandy.” 

“ We  have  got  gin,  ma’am,  and  bottled  porter — cider,  ma’am 
if  you  like.” 

“ Agh,  no ! sure  I want  the  dhrops  agin  the  sickness/’ 

“ Don’t  know,  indeed,  ma’am.” 

6 


82 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


“ Ah,  you  stupid  creature  ! Maybe  you’re  not  the  real  stew- 
ard. What’s  your  name  ? ” 

“ Smith,  ma’am.” 

“ Ah,  I thought  so.  Go  away,  man,  go  away.” 

This  injunction,  given  in  a diminuendo  cadence,  was  quickly 
obeyed,  and  all  was  silence  for  a moment  or  two.  Once  more 
was  I dropping  asleep,  when  the  same  voice  as  before  burst  out 
with — 

“ Am  I to  die  here  like  a haythen,  and  nobody  to  come  near 
me  ? Steward  ! steward  ! Steward  Moore,  I say.” 

“ Who  calls  me  ? ” said  a deep  sonorous  voice  from  the  op> 
posite  side  of  the  cabin,  while  at  the  same  instant  a tall  green 
silk  nightcap,  surmounting  a very  aristocratic-looking  forehead, 
appeared  between  the  curtains  of  the  opposite  berth. 

“ Steward  Moore  ! ” said  the  lady  again,  with  her  eyes  strain- 
ing in  the  direction  of  the  door  by  which  she  expected  him  to 
enter. 

“ This  is  most  strange,”  mutteted  the  baronet,  half  aloud. 
“ Why,  madam,  you  are  calling  me  /” 

“ And  if  I am,”  said  Mrs.  Mulrooney,  “ and  if  ye  heerd  me, 
have  ye  no  manners  to  answer  your  name,  eh  ? Are  ye  Steward 
Moore  ? ” 

“ Upon  my  life,  ma’am,  I thought  so  last  night  when  I came 
on  board  ! but  you  really  have  contrived  to  make  me  doubt  my 
own  identity.” 

“ And  is  it  there  ye’re  lying  on  the  broad  of  yer  back,  and  me 
as  sick  as  a dog  foment  ye  ? ” 

“ I concede,  ma’am,  the  fact ; the  position  is  a most  irksome 
one  on  every  account.” 

“ Then  why  don’t  ye  come  over  to  me  ? ” And  this  Mrs.  Mul- 
rooney said  with  a voice  of  something  like  tenderness — wishing 
at  all  hazards  to  conciliate  so  important  a functionary. 

“ Why,  really,  you  are  the  most  incomprehensible  person  I 
ever  met.” 

“ Pm  what  ? ” said  Mrs.  Mulrooney,  her  blood  rushing  to  her 
face  and  temples  as  she  spoke— for  the  same  reason  as  her  fair 
townswoman  is  reported  to  have  borne  with  stoical  fortitude 
every  harsh  epithet  of  the  language,  until  it  occurred  to  her  op- 
ponent to  tell  her  that  “ the  devil  a bit  better  she  was  nor  a pro- 
noun ; ” so  Mrs.  Mulrooney,  taking  “ omne  ignotum  pro  hor 
ribile”  because  perfectly  beside  herself  at  the  unlucky  phrase. 
“ I'm  what  ? Repate  it  av  ye  dare,  and  I’ll  tear  yer  eyes  out ! 
Ye  dirty  bla— guard,  to  be  lying  there  at  yer  ease  under  the 
blankets,  grinning  at  me.  What’s  your  thrade — answer  me  that 
— av  it  isn’t  to  wait  on  the  ladies,  eh  ? ” 


UPSET. 


83 


“Oh,  the  woman  must  be  mad,”  said  Sir  Stewart. 

“ The  devil  a taste  mad,  my  dear — I’m  only  sick.  Now  just 
come  over  to  me  like  a decent  creature,  and  give  me  the  dhrop 
of  comfort  ye  have.  Come,  avick.” 

“ Go  over  to  you  ? ” 

“ Ay,  and  why  not  ? Or,  if  it’s  so  lazy  ye  are,  why  then  I’ll 
thry  and  cross  over  to  your  side.” 

These  words  being  accompanied  by  a certain  indication  of 
change  of  residence  on  the  part  of  Mrs.  Mulrooney,  Sir  Stew- 
art perceived  there  was  no  time  to  lose,  and  springing  from  his 
berth,  he  rushed  half-dressed  through  the  cabin  and  up  the  com- 
panion-ladder, just  as  Mrs.  Mulrooney  had  protruded  a pair  of 
enormous  legs  from  her  couch,  and  hung  for  a moment  pendu- 
lous before  she  dropped  upon  the  floor  and  followed  him  to  the 
deck.  A tremenduous  shout  of  laughter  from  the  sailors  and 
deck  passengers  prevented  my  hearing  the  dialogue  which  en- 
sued ; nor  do  I yet  know  how  Mrs.  Mulrooney  learned  her  mis- 
take. Certain  it  is,  she  no  more  appeared  amongst  the  passen- 
gers in  the  cabin,  and  Sir  Stewart’s  manner  the  following 
morning  at  breakfast  amply  satisfied  me  that  I had  had  my  re- 
venge. 


CHAPTER  X. 

UPSET — MIND — AND  BODY. 

No  sooner  in  Liverpool,  than  I hastened  to  take  my  place  in 
the  earliest  conveyance  for  London.  At  that  time  the  Umpire 
coach  was  the  perfection  of  fast  travelling ; and,  seated  behind 
the  box,  enveloped  in  a sufficiency  of  broadcloth,  I turned  my 
face  towards  town  with  as  much  anxiety  and  as  ardent  expecta' 
tions  as  most  of  those  about  me.  All  went  on  in  the  regular 
monotonous  routine  of  such  matters  until  we  reached  North' 
ampton,  passing  down  the  steep  street  of  which  town,  the  near 
wheel-horse  stumbled  and  fell ; the  coach,  after  a tremendous 
roll  to  one  side,  toppled  over  on  the  other,  and  with  a tremen- 
dous crash,  and  sudden  shock,  sent  all  the  outsides,  myself 
among  the  number,  flying  through  the  air  like  sea-gulls.  As  for 
me,  after  describing  a very  respectable  parabola,  my  angle  of 
incidence  landed  me  in  a bonnet-maker’s  shop,  having  passed 
through  a large  plate-glass  window,  and  destroyed  more  leg- 
horns and  dunstables  than  a year’s  pay  would  recompense.  I 
have  but  slight  recollection  of  the  details  of  that  occasion,  until 


84 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


I found  myself  lying  in  a very  spacious  bed  at  the  George  Inn, 
having  been  bled  in  both  arms,  and  discovering  by  the  multi- 
tude of  bandages  in  which  I was  enveloped,  that  at  least  some 
of  my  bones  were  broken  by  the  fall.  That  such  fate  had  be- 
fallen my  collar-bone  and  three  of  my  ribs,  I soon  learned  ; and 
was  horror-struck  at  hearing  from  the  surgeon  who  attended  me 
that  four  or  five  weeks  would  be  the  very  earliest  period  I could 
bear  removal  with  safety.  Here  then  at  once  there  was  a large 
deduction  from  my  six  months’  leave,  not  to  think  of  the  misery 
that  awaited  me  for  such  a time,  confined  to  my  bed  in  an 
inn,  without  books,  friends,  or  acquaintances.  However,  even 
this  could  be  remedied  by  patience,  and  summoning  up  all  I could 
command,  I “ bided  my  time,”  but  not  before  I had  completed 
a term  of  two  months’  imprisonment,  and  had  become,  from  act- 
ual starvation,  something  very  like  a living  transparency. 

No  sooner,  however,  did  I feelhnyself  once  more  on  the  road, 
than  my  spirits  rose,  and  I felt  myself  as  full  of  high  hope  and 
buoyant  expectancy  as  ever.  It  was  late  at  night  when  I ar- 
rived in  London.  I drove  to  a quiet  hotel  in  the  West  End ; 
and  the  following  morning  proceeded  to  Portman  Square,  burst 
mg  with  impatience  to  see  my  friends  the  Callonbys,  and  re- 
count all  my  adventures — for  as  I was  too  ill  to  write  from 
Northampton,  and  did  not  wish  to  entrust  to  a stranger  the 
office  of  communicating  with  them,  I judged  that  they  must  be 
exceedingly  uneasy  on  my  account,  and  pictured  to  myself  the 
thousand  emotions  my  appearance  so  indicative  of  illness  would 
give  rise  to,  and  could  scarcely  avoid  running  in  my  impatience 
to  be  once  more  among  them.  How  Lady  jane  would  meet  me, 
I thought  of  over  again  and  again  ; whether  the  same  cautious 
reserve  awaited  me,  or  whether  her  family’s  approval  would 
have  wrought  a change  in  her  reception  of  me,  1 burned  to  as- 
certain. As  my  thoughts  ran  on  in  this  way,  I found  myself  at 
the  door  ; but  was  much  alarmed  to  perceive  that  the  closed 
window-shutters  and  dismantled  look  of  the  house  proclaimed 
them  from  home.  I rang  the  bell,  and  soon  learned  from  a 
servant,  whose  face  I had  not  seen  before,  that  the  family  had 
gone  to  Paris  about  a month  before,  with  the  intention  of  spend- 
ing the  winter  there.  I need  not  say  how  grievously  this  piece 
of  intelligence  disappointed  me,  and  for  a minute  or  two  I could 
not  collect  my  thoughts.  At  last  the  servant  said, — 

“ If  you  have  anything  very  particular,  sir,  that  my  lord’s 
lawyer  can  do,  I can  give  you  his  address.” 

“ No,  thank  you — nothing ; ” at  the  same  time  I muttered  to 
myself,  “ I’ll  have  some  occupation  for  him  though,  ere  long? 
The  family  were  all  quite  well,  didn’t  you  say  ? ” 


UPSET.  85 

“Yes,  sir,  perfectly  well.  My  lord  had  only  a slight 
cold.” 

“ Ah — yes — and  their  address  is  ‘ Meurice  ; ’ very  well.” 

So  saying,  I turned  from  the  door,  and,  with  slower  steps 
than  I had  come,  returned  to  my  hotel. 

My  immediate  resolve  was  to  set  out  for  Paris  ; my  second 
was  to  visit  my  uncle,  Sir  Guy  Lorrequer,  first,  and,  having  ex- 
plained to  him  the  nature  of  my  position  and  the  advantageous 
prospects  before  me,  endeavor  to  induce  him  to  make  some  set- 
tlement on  Lady  Jane,  in  the  event  of  my  obtaining  her  family’s 
consent  to  our  marriage.  This,  from  his  liking  great  people 
much,  and  laying  great  stress  upon  the  advantages  of  connec- 
tion, I looked  upon  as  a matter  of  no  great  difficulty  ; so  that, 
although  my  hopes  of  happiness  were  delayed  in  their  fulfilment, 
I believed  they  were  only  to  be  the  more  securely  realized.  The 
same  day  I set  out  for  Elton,  and  by  ten  o’clock  at  night  reached 
my  uncle’s  house.  1 found  the  old  gentleman  just  as  I had  left 
him  three  years  before,  complaining  a little  of  gout  in  the  left 
foot — praising  his  old  specific,  port  wine — abusing  his  servants 
for  robbing  him — and  drinking  the  Duke  of  Wellington’s  health 
every  night  after  supper  ; which  meal  I had  much  pleasure  in 
surprising  him  at  on  my  arrival — not  having  eaten  since  my  de- 
parture from  London. 

“ Well  Harry,”  said  my  uncle,  when  the  servants  had  left 
the  room,  and  we  drew  over  the  spider  table  to  the  fire  to  dis- 
cuss our  wine  with  comfort,  “ what  good  wind  has  blown  you 
down  to  me,  my  boy?  for  it’s  odd  enough,  five  minutes  before 
I heard  the  wheels  on  the  gravel  I was  just  wishing  some  good 
fellow  would  join  me  at  the  grouse — and  you  see  I have  had 
my  wish  ! The  old  story,  I suppose,  ‘out  of  cash.’  Would 
not  come  down  here  for  nothing — eh  ? Come,  lad,  tell  truth  ; 
is  it  not  so  ? ” 

“ Why,  not  exactly,  sir ; but  I really  had  rather  at  present 
talk  about  you  than  about  my  own  matters,  which  we  can  chat 
over  to-morrow.  How  do  you  get  on,  sir,  with  the  Scotch  stew- 
ard ? ” 

“ He’s  a rogue,  sir — a cheat — a scoundrel ; but  it  is  the 
same  with  them  all ; and  your  cousin,  Harry — your  cousin, 
that  I have  reared  from  his  infancy  to  be  my  heir  (pleasant 
topic  for  me  !) — he  cares  no  more  for  me  than  the  rest  of  them, 
and  would  never  come  near  me,  if  it  were  not  that,  like  your- 
self, he  was  hard  run  for  money,  and  wanted  to  wheedle  me  out 
of  a hundred  or  two.” 

“ But  you  forget,  sir;  I told  you  I have  not  come  with  such 
an  object.” 


86 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


“ We’ll  see  that,  we’ll  see  that  in  the  morning,”  replied  he, 
with  an  incredulous  shake  of  the  head. 

“ But  Guy,  sir — what  has  Guy  done  ? ” 

“ What  has  he  not  done  ? No  sooner  did  he  join  that  popin- 
jay set  of  fellows,  the  — th  hussars,  than  he  turned  out  what  he 
calls  a four-in-hand  drag,  which  dragged  nine  hundred  pounds 
out  of  my  pocket.  Then  he  has  got  a yacht  at  Cowes---a  grouse 
mountain  in  Scotland — and  has  actually  given  Tattersall  an 
unlimited  order  to  purchase  the  Wreckington  pack  of  harriers, 
which  he  intends  to  keep  for  the  use  of  the  corps.  In  a word, 
there  is  not  an  amusement  of  that  villanous  regiment,  not  a flask 
of  champagne  drunk  at  their  mess,  I don’t  bear  my  share  in  the 
cost  of  ; all  through  the  kind  offices  of  your  worthy  cousin, 
Guy  Lorrequer.” 

This  was  an  exceedingly  pleasant  expose  for  me,  to  hear  of  my 
cousin  indulged  in  every  excess  of  foolish  extravagance  by  his 
rich  uncle,  while  I,  the  son  of  an  elder  brother,  who  unfortu- 
nately called  me  by  his  own  name,  Harry,  remained  the  sub.  in 
a marching  regiment,  with  not  three  hundred  pounds  a year 
above  my  pay,  and  whom  any  extravagance,  if  such  had  been 
proved  against  me,  would  have  deprived  of  even  that  small  al- 
lowance. My  uncle,  however,  did  not  notice  the  chagrin  with 
which  I heard  his  narrative,  but  continued  to  detail  various  in- 
stances of  wild  and  reckless  expense  the  future  possessor  of  his 
ample  property  had  already  launched  into. 

Anxious  to  say  something,  without  well  knowing  what,  I 
hinted  that  probably  my  good  cousin  would  reform  some  of 
these  days,  and  marry. 

“ Marry  ! ” said  my  uncle  ; “ yes,  that  I believe  is  the  best 
thing  we  can  do  with  him  ; and  I hope  now  the  matter  is  in 
good  train — so  the  latest  accounts  say,  at  least.” 

“ Ah,  indeed ! ” said  I,  endeavoring  to  take  an  interest 
where  I really  felt  none,  for  my  cousin  and  I had  never  been 
very  intimate  friends,  and  the  difference  in  our  fortunes  had 
not,  at  least  to  my  thinking,  been  compensated  by  any  advances 
which  he,  under  the  circumstances,  might  have  made  to  me. 

“ Why,  Harry,  did  you  not  hear  of  it  ? ” said  my  uncle. 

“ No  ; not  a word,  sir.” 

“Very  strange,  indeed — a great  match,  Harry — a very  great 
match,  indeed.” 

“Some  rich  banker’s  daughter,”  thought  I.  “What  will  he 
say  when  he  hears  of  my  fortune  ? ” 

“ A very  fine  young  woman,  too,  I understand — quite  the 
**//e  of  London — and  a splendid  property  left  by  an  aunt.” 

I was  bursting  to  tell  him  of  my  affair,  and  that  he  had 


UPSET.  87 

another  nephew,  to  whom,  if  common  justice  were  rendered, 
his  fortune  was  as  certainly  made  for  life. 

“Guy’s  business  happened  this  way,”  continued  my  uncle, 
who  was  quite  engrossed  by  the  thought  of  his  favorite’s  success. 
“ The  father  of  the  young  lady  met  him  in  Ireland,  or  Scotland, 
or  some  such  place,  where  he  was  with  his  regiment — was 
greatly  struck  with  his  manner  and  address — found  him  out  to 
be  my  nephew — asked  him  to  his  house — and,  in  fact,  almost 
threw  this  lovely  girl  at  his  head  before  they  were  two  months 
acquainted.” 

“ As  nearly  as  possible  my  own  adventure,”  thought  I,  laugh- 
ing to  myself. 

“ But  you  have  not  told  me  who  they  are,  sir,”  said  I,  dying  to 
have  his  story  finished,  and  to  begin  mine. 

44  I’m  coming  to  that — I’m  coming  to  that.  Guy  came  down 
here,  but  did  not  tell  me  one  word  of  his  having  ever  met  the 
family,  but  begged  of  me  to  give  him  an  introduction  to  them, 
as  they  were  in  Paris,  where  he  was  going  on  a short  leave ; and 
the  first  thing  I heard  of  the  matter  was  by  a letter  from  the 
papa,  demanding  from  me  if  Guy  was  to  be  my  heir,  and  asking 
4 how  far  his  attentions  in  his  family  met  with  my  approval.’  ” 

44  Then  how  did  you  know,  sir,  that  they  were  previously  known 
to  each  other  ? ” 

44  The  family  lawyer  told  me,  who  heard  it  all  talked  over.” 

44  And  why,  then,  did  Guy  get  the  letter  of  introduction  from 
you,  when  he  was  already  acquainted  with  them  ? ” 

44 1 am  sure  I cannot  tell,  except  that  you  know  he  always 
does  everything  unlike  every  one  else,  and  to  be  sure  the  letter 
seems  to  have  excited  some  amusement.  I must  show  you  his 
answer  to  my  first  note  to  know  how  all  was  going  on — for  I felt 
very  anxious  about  matters — when  I heard  from  some  person 
who  had  met  them,  that  Guy  was  everlastingly  in  the  house,  and 
that  Lord  Callonby  could  not  live  without  him.” 

44  Lord  who,  sir  ? ” said  I,  in  a voice  that  made  the  old  man 
upset  his  glass,  and  spring  from  his  chair  in  horror. 

44  What  the  devil  is  the  matter  with  the  boy  ? What  makes 
you  so  pale  ? ” 

44  Whose  name  did  you  say  at  that  moment,  sir?  ” said  I,  with 
a slowness  of  speech  that  cost  me  agony. 

44  Lord  Callonby,  my  old  schoolfellow  and  fag  at  Eton.” 

44  And  the  lady’s  name,  sir?”  said  I,  in  scarcely  an  audible 
whisper. 

44  I’m  sure  I forget  her  name ; but  here’s  the  letter  from  Guy, 
and  I think  he  mentions  her  name  in  the  postscript.” 

I snatched  rudely  the  half-opened  letter  from  the  old  man,  as 


88  HARRY  LORREQUER. 

he  was  vainly  endeavoring  to  detect  the  place  he  wanted,  and 
.read  as  follows  : — 

“ My  adored  Jane  is  all  your  fondest  wishes  for  my  happiness 
could  picture,  and  longs  to  see  her  dear  uncle,  as  she  already 
calls  you  on  every  occasion.”  I read  no  more — my  eyes  swam 
— the  paper,  the  candles,  everything  before  me  was  misty  and 
confused ; and  although  I heard  my  uncle’s  voice  still  going  on, 
I knew  nothing  of  what  he  said. 

For  some  time  my  mind  could  not  take  in  the  full  extent  of 
the  base  treachery  I had  met  with,  and  I sat  speechless  and  stu- 
pefied. By  degrees  my  faculties  became  clearer,  and  with  one 
glance  I read  the  whole  business^from  my  first  meeting  with 
them  at  Kilrush  to  the  present  moment.  I saw  that  in  their  at- 
tentions to  me,  they  thought  they  were  winning  the  heir  of  Elton, 
the  future  proprietor  of  fifteen  thousand  per  annum.  From  this 
tangled  web  of  heartless  intrigue  I turned  my  thoughts  to  Lady 
Jane  herself.  How  had  she  betrayed  me  ? for  certainly  she  had 
not  only  received,  but  encouraged  my  addresses — and  so  soon 
too  ! To  think  that,  at  the  very  moment  when  my  own  precipi- 
tate haste  to  see  her  had  involved  me  in  a nearly  fatal  accident, 
she  was  actually  receiving  the  attentions  of  another!  Oh;  it 
was  too,  too  bad. 

But  enough — even  now  I can  scarcely  dwell  upon  the  mem- 
ory of  that  moment,  when  the  hopes  and  dreams  of  many  a long 
day  and  night  were  destined  to  be  thus  rudely  blighted.  I seized 
the  first  opportunity  of  bidding  my  uncle  good-night ; and  hav- 
ing promised  him  to  reveal  all  my  plans  on  the  morrow,  hurried 
to  my  room. 

My  plans  ! alas,  I had  none  ! — that  one  fatal  paragraph  had 
scattered  them  to  the  winds ; and  I threw  myself  upon  the  bed, 
wretched  and  almost  heart-broken. 

I have  once  before  in  these  “ Confessions  ” claimed  to  myself 
the  privilege,  not  inconsistent  with  a full  disclosure  of  the  mem- 
orabilia of  my  life,  to  pass  slightly  over  those  passages  the  bur- 
den of  which  was  unhappy,  and  whose  memory  is  still  painful. 
1 must  now,  therefore,  claim  the  “ benefit  of  this  act,”  and  beg 
of  the  reader  to  let  me  pass  from  this  sad  portion  of  my  history, 
and  for  the  full  expression  of  my  mingled  rage,  contempt,  disap- 
pointment, and  sorrow,  let  me  beg  of  him  to  receive  instead, 
what  a learned  pope  once  gave  as  his  apology  for  not  reading  a 
rather  polysyllabic  word  in  a Latin  letter — “ As  for  this,”  said  he, 
looking  at  the  phrase  in  question,  “ suppose  it  said.”  So  say  I. 
And  now,  en  route . 


CHEL  TEA7 HAM. 


89 


CHAPTER  XI. 

CHELTENHAM — MATRIMONIAL  ADVENTURE — SHOWING  HOW  TO 
MAKE  LOVE  FOR  A FRIEND. 

It  was  a cold  raw  evening  in  February,  as  I sat  in  the  coffee- 
room  of  the  Old  Plough,  in  Cheltenham,  Lucullus  c.  Lucullo — 
no  companion  save  my  half-finished  decanter  of  port.  I had 
drawn  my  chair  to  the  corner  of  the  ample  fireplace,  and  in  a 
half-dieamy  state  was  reviewing  the  incidents  of  my  early  life, 
and  like  most  men  who,  however  young,  have  still  to  lament  tal- 
ents misapplied,  opportunities  neglected,  profitless  labor,  and 
disastrous  idleness.  The  dreary  aspect  of  the  large  and  ill- 
lighted  room — the  close -curtained  boxes — the  unsocial  look  of 
everything  and  body  about,  suited  the  habit  of  my  soul,  and  I 
was  on  the  verge  of  becoming  excessively  sentimental , the  un- 
broken silence,  where  several  people  were  present,  had  also  its 
effect  upon  me,  and  I felt  oppressed  and  dejected.  So  sat  I 
for  an  hour;  the  clock  over  the  mantle  ticked  sharply  on — 
the  old  man  in  the  brown  surtout  had  turned  in  his  chair,  and 
now  snored  louder — the  gentleman  who  read  the  Times  had  got 
the  Chronicle , and  I thought  I saw  him  nodding  over  the  advertise- 
ments. The  father  who,  with  a raw  son  of  about  nineteen,  had 
dined  at  six,  sat  still  and  motionless  opposite  his  offspring,  and 
only  breaking  the  silence  around  by  the  grating  of  the  decanter 
as  he  posted  it  across  the  table.  The  only  thing  denoting  act- 
ive existence  was  a little,  shrivelled  man,  who,  with  spectacles 
on  his  forehead  and  hotel  slippers  on  his  feet,  rapidly  walked 
up  and  down,  occasionally  stopping  at  his  table  to  sip  a little 
weak-looking  negus,  which  was  his  moderate  potation  for  two 
hours.  I have  been  particular  in  chronicling  these  few  and  ap- 
parently trivial  circumstances,  for  by  what  mere  trifles  are  our 
greatest  and  most  important  movements  induced  ! Had  the 
near  wheeler  of  the  Umpire  been  only  safe  on  his  forelegs  and 

but  let  me  continue.  The  gloom  and  melancholy  which 

beset  me  momentarily  increased.  But  three  months  before,  and 
my  prospects  presented  everything  that  was  fairest  and  brightest 
— now,  all  the  future  was  dark  and  dismal.  Then,  my  best  friends 
could  scarcely  avoid  envy  at  my  fortune — now,  my  reverses  might 
almost  excite  compassion  even  in  an  enemy.  It  was  singular 
enough — and  I should  not  like  to  acknowledge  it,  were  not 
these  “ Confessions  ” in  their  very  nature  intended  to  disclose 
the  very  penetralia  of  my  heart — but  singular  it  certainly  was — 
and  so  I have  always  felt  it  since,  when  reflecting  on  it — that 


90 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


although  much  and  warmly  attached  to  Lady  Jane  Callonby,  and 
feeling  most  acutely  what  I must  call  her  abandonment  of  me, 
yet,  the  most  constantly  recurring  idea  of  my  mind  on  the  sub- 
ject was,  what  will  the  mess  say  ? — what  will  they  think  at  head- 
quarters ? — the  raillery,  the  jesting,  the  half-concealed  allusion, 
the  tone  of  assumed  compassion,  which  all  awaited  me,  as  each 
of  my  comrades  took  up  his  line  of  behaving  towards  me,  was,  after 
all,  the  most  difficult  thing  to  be  borne,  and  I absolutely  dreaded 
to  join  my  regiment  more  thoroughly  than  did  ever  schoolboy  to 
return  to  his  labor  on  the  exprration  of  his  holidays.  I had 
framed  to  myself  all  manner  of  ways  of  avoiding  this  dread 
event;  sometimes  I meditated  an  exchange  into  an  African 
corps — sometimes  to  leave  the  army  altogether.  However  I 
turned  the  affair  over  in  my  mind,  innumerable  difficulties  pre- 
sented themselves  ; and  I was  at  last  reduced  to  that  stand-still 
point,  in  which,  after  continual  vacillation,  one  only  waits  for 
the  slightest  impulse  of  persuasion  from  another,  to  adopt  any, 
no  matter  what,  suggestion.  In  this  enviable  frame  of  mind  I 
sat  sipping  my  wine,  and  watching  the  clock  for  that  hour  at 
which,  with  a safe  conscience,  I might  retire  to  my  bed,  when 
the  waiter  roused  me  by  demanding  if  my  name  was  Mr.  Lorre- 
quer,  for  that  a gentleman  having  seen  my  card  in  the  bar,  had 
been  making  inquiry  for  the  owner  of  it  all  through  the  hotel. 

“ Yes,”  said  I,  “ such  is  my  name  ; but  I am  not  acquainted 
with  any  one  here,  that  I can  remember.” 

“ The  gentleman  has  only  arrived  an  hour  since  by  the  Lon- 
don mail,  sir  ; and  heie  he  is.” 

At  this  moment,  a tall,  dashing-looking,  half-swaggering  fel- 
low, in  a very  sufficient  envelope  of  box-coats,  entered  the  coffee- 
room,  and  unwinding  a shawl  from  his  throat,  showed  me  the 
honest  and  maniy  countenance  of  my  friend  Jack  Waller,  of  the 
— th  dragoons,  with  whom  I had  served  in  the  Peninsula. 

-Five  minutes  sufficed  for  Jack  to  tell  me  .that  he  was  come 
down  on  a bold  speculation  at  this  unseasonable  time  for  Chel- 
tenham ; that  he  was  quite  sure  his  fortune  was  about  to  be 
made  in  a few  weeks  at  furthest ; and  what  seemed  nearly  as 
engrossing  a topic — that  he  was  perfectly  famished,  and  desired 
a hot  supper,  de  suite . 

Jack  having  despatched  this  agreeable  meal  with  a traveller’s 
appetite,  proceeded  to  unfold  his  plans  to  me  as  follows  : 

There  resided  somewhere  near  Cheltenham,  in  what  direction 
he  did  not  absolutely  know,  an  old  East  India  colonel,  who  had 
returned  from  a long  career  of  successful  staff  duties  and  gov- 
ernment contracts,  with  the  moderate  fortune  of  two  hundred 
thousand.  He  possessed,  in  addition,  a son  and  a daughter ; the 


CHELTENHAM. 


91 


former,  being  a rake  and  a gambler,  he  had  long  since  consigned 
to  his  own  devices,  and  to  the  latter  he  had  avowed  his  inten- 
tion of  leaving  all  his,  wealth.  That  she  was  beautiful  as  an 
angel — highly  accomplished — gifted — agreeable — and  all  that, 
Jack,  who  had  never  seen  her,  was  firmly  convinced;  that  she 
was  also  bent  resolutely  on  marrying  him,  or  any  other  gentle- 
man whose  claims  were  principally  the  want  of  money,  he  was 
quite  ready  to  swear  to  ; and,  in  fact,  so  assured  did  he  feel  that 
“ the  whole  affair  was  feasible  ” (I  use  his  own  expression),  that 
he  had  managed  a two  months’  leave,  and  was  come  down  ex 
press,  to  see,  make  love  to,  and  carry  her  off  at  once. 

“ But,”  said  I,  with  difficulty  interrupting  him,  “ how  long 
have  you  known  her  father  ? ” 

“ Known  him  ? I never  saw  him.” 

“ Well,  that  certainly  is  cool.  And  how  do  you  propose  mak- 
ing his  acquaintance  ? Do  you  intend  to  make  him  a particeps 
criminis  in  the  elopement  of  his  own  daughter,  for  a considera- 
tion to  be  hereafter  paid  out  of  his  own  money  ? ” 

“ Now,  Harry,  you’ve  touched  upon  the  point  in  which,  you 
must  confess,  my  genius  always  stood  unrivalled.  Acknowledge, 
if  you  are  not  dead  to  gratitude — acknowledge  how  often  should 
you  have  gone  supperless  to  bed  in  our  bivouacs  in  the  Penin- 
sula, had  it  not  been  for  the  ingenuity  of  your  humble  servant — 
avow,  that  if  mutton  was  to  be  had,  and  beef  to  be  purloined 
within  a circuit  of  twenty  miles  round,  our  mess  certainly  kept 
no  fast  days.  I need  not  remind  you  of  the  cold  morning  on 
the  retreat  from  Burgos,  when  the  inexorable  Lake  brought  five 
men  to  the  halberds  for  stealing  turkeys,  that  at  the  same  mo- 
ment I was  engaged  in  devising  an  ox-tail  soup  from  a heifer 
brought  to  our  tent  in  jack-boots,  the  evening  before^  to  escape 
detection  by  her  foot  tracks.” 

“True,  Jack,  I never  questioned  your  Spartan  talent;  but 
this  affair,  time  considered,  does  appear  rather  difficult.” 

“And  if  it  were  not,  should  I have  ever  engaged  in  it  ? No, 
no,  Harry.  I put  all  proper  value  upon  the  pretty  girl,  with  her 
two  hundred  thousand  pounds  pin-money.  But  1 honestly  own 
to  you,  the  intrigue,  the  scheme,  has  as  great  charm  for  me  as 
any  part  of  the  transaction.” 

“ Well,  Jack,  now  for  the  plan,  then  ! ” 

“ The  plan  ! oh,  the  plan  ! Why,  I have  several ; but  since 
T have  seen  you,  and  talked  the  matter  over  with  you,  I have 
begun  to  think  of  a new  mode  of  opening  the  trenches.” 

“ Why,  I don’t  see  how  I can  possibly  hgve  admitted  a single 
new  ray  of  light  upon  the  affair.” 

“There  you  are  quite  wrong.  Jyst  hear  me  out  without  ir 


92 


HARRY  LORREQUER . 


terruption,  and  I’ll  explain.  I’ll  first  discover  the  locale  of  this 
worthy  colonel — ‘ Hydrabad  Cottage  ’ he  calls  it ; good,  eh  ? — 
then  I shall  proceed  to  make  a tour  of  the  immediate  vicinity, 
and  either  be  taken  dangerously  ill  in  his  grounds,  within  ten 
yards  of  the  hall-door,  or  be  thrown  from  my  gig  at  the  gate  of 
his  avenue  and  fracture  my  skull;  I don’t  much  care  which. 
Well,  then,  as  I learn  the  old  gentleman  is  the  most  kind,  hos- 
pitable fellow  in  the  world,  he’ll  admit  me  at  once  ; his  daughter 
will  tend  my  sick  couch — nurse — read  to  me  ; glorious  fun, 
Harry ! I’ll  make  fierce  love  to  her.  And  now,  the  only  point 
to  de  decided  is  whether,  having  partaken  of  the  colonel’s  hos- 
pitality so  freely,  I ought  to  carry  her  off,  or  marry  her  with 
papa’s  consent.  You  see  there  is  much  to  be  said  for  either  line 
of  proceeding.” 

“ I certainly  agree  with  you  there ; but  since  you  seem  to  see 
your  way  so  clearly  up  to  that  point,  why,  I should  advise  you 
leaving  that  an  ‘ open  question,’  as  the  ministers  say  when  they 
are  hard  pressed  for  an  opinion.” 

“Well,  Harry,  I consent;  it  shall  remain  so.  Now  for  your 
part,  for  I have  now  come  to  that.” 

“Mine!”  said  I,  in  amazement;  “ why,  how  can  I possibly 
have  any  character  assigned  me  in  the  drama  ? ” 

uI’ll  tell  you,  Harry;  you  shall  come  with  me  in  the  gig  in 
the  capacity  of  my  valet.” 

“Your  what?  ” said  I,  horror-struck  at  his  impudence. 

“ Come,  no  nonsense,  Harry ; you’ll  have  a glorious  time  of 
it — shall  choose  as  becoming  a livery  as  you  like — and  you’ll 
have  the  whole  female  world  below  stairs  dying  for  you  ; and  all 
I ask  for  such  an  opportunity  vouchsafed  to  you  is  to  puff  me, 
your  master,  in  every  possible  shape  and  form,  and  represent 
me  as  the  finest  and  most  liberal  fellow  in  the  world,  rolling  in 
wealth,  and  only  striving  to  get  rid  of  it.” 

The  unparalleled  effrontery  of  Master  Jack,  in  assigning  to 
me  such  an  office,  absolutely  left  me  unable  to  reply  to  him  ; 
while  he  continued  to  expatiate  upon  the  great  field  for  exertion 
thus  open  to  us  both.  At  last  it  occurred  to  me  to  benefit  by  an 
anecdote  of  a something  similar  arrangement,  of  capturing,  not 
a young  lady  but  a fortified  town,  by  retorting  Jack’s  proposi- 
tion. 

“ Come,”  said  I,  “ I agree,  with  only  one  difference — I’ll  be 
the  master  and  you  the  man  on  this  occasion.” 

To  my  utter  confusion,  and  without  a second’s  consideration, 
Waller  grasped  my  hand,  and  cried,  “ Done  ! ” Of  course  I 
laughed  heartily  at  the  utter  absurdity  of  the  whole  scheme,  and 
rallied  my  friend  on  his  prospects  of  Botany  Bay  for  such  an  ex- 


CHELTENHAM. 


93 


ploit,  never  contemplating  in  the  most  remote  degree  the  com- 
mission of  such  extravagance. 

Upon  this,  Jack,  to  use  the  expressive  French  phrase  prit  la 
parole , touching,  with  a master-like  delicacy,  on  my  late  defeat 
among  the  Callonbys  (which  up  to  this  instant  I believed  him  in 
ignorance  of),  he  expatiated  upon  the  prospect  of  my  repairing 
that  misfortune,  and  obtaining  a fortune  considerably  larger;  he 
cautiously  abstained  from  mentioning  the  personal  charms  of 
the  young  lady,  supposing  from  my  lachrymose  look,  that  my 
heart  had  not  yet  recovered  the  shock  of  Lady  Jane’s  perfidy, 
and  rather  preferred  to  dwell  upon  the  escape  such  a marriage 
would  open  to  me  from  the  mockery  of  the  mess-table,  the  jest- 
ing of  my  brother  officers,  and  the  life-long  raillery  of  the  ser- 
vice, wherever  the  story  reached. 

The  fatal  facility  of  my  disposition,  so  often  and  so  frankly 
chronicled  in  these  “ Confessions  ” — the  openness  to  be  led 
whither  any  one  might  take  the  trouble  to  conduct  me — the  easy 
indifference  to  assume  any  character  which  might  be  pressed 
upon  me,  by  chance,  accident,  or  design,  assisted  by  my  share  of 
three  flasks  of  champagne,  induced  me  first  to  listen — then  to 
attend  to — soon  after  to  suggest — and  finally,  absolutely  to  con- 
cur in  and  agree  to  a proposal  which,  at  any  other  moment,  I 
must  have  regarded  as  downright  insanity.  As  the  clock  struck 
two,  I had  just  affixed  my  name  to  an  agreement;  for  Jack 
Waller  had  so  much  of  method  in  his  madness,  that,  fearful  of 
my  retracting  in  the  morning,  he  had  committed  the  whole  to 
writing,  which,  as  a specimen  of  Jack’s  legal  talents,  I copy  from 
the  original  document,  now  in  my  possession. 

“The  Plough,  Cheltenham,  Tuesday  night  or  morning,  two 
o’clock — be  the  same  more  or  less.  I,  Harry  Lorrequer,  sub.  in 
his  Majesty’s  — th  Regiment  of  Foot,  on  the  one  part,  and  I, 
John  Waller,  commonly  called  Jack  Waller,  of  the  — th  Light 
Dragoons,  on  the  other,  hereby  promise  and  agree,  each  for  him- 
self, and  notone  for  the  other,  to  the  following  conditions,  which 
are  hereafter  subjoined,  to  wit,  the  aforesaid  Jack  Waller  is  to 
serve,  obey,  and  humbly  follow  the  aforementioned  Harry  Lor- 
requer, for  the  space  of  one  month  of  four  weeks  ; conducting 
himself  in  all  respects,  modes,  ways,  manners,  as  his,  the  afore- 
said Lorrequer’s  own  man,  skip,  valet,  or  flunkey — duly  praising, 
puffing,  and  lauding  the  aforesaid  Lorrequer,  and  in  every  way 
facilitating  his  success  to  the  hand  and  fortune  of ” 

“ Shall  we  put  in  her  name,  Harry,  here  ? ” said  Jack. 

“ I think  not ; we’lhfill  it  up  in  pencil ; that  looks  very  know- 
ing.” 

“ at  the  end  of  which  period,  if  successful  in  his  suit,  the 


94 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


aforesaid  Harry  Lorrequer  is  to  render  to  the  aforesaid  Waner 
the  sum  of  ten  thousand  pounds  three  and  a half  per  cent,  with 
a faithful  discharge  in  writing  for  his  services,  as  may  be.  If, 
on  the  other  hand,  and  which  Heaven  forbid  ! the  aforesaid  Lo/- 

requer  fail  in  obtaining  the  hand  of , that  he  will  evacuate 

the  territory  within  twelve  hours,  and  repairing  to  a convenient 
spot  selected  by  the  aforesaid  Waller,  then  and  there  duly  invest 
himself  with  a livery  chosen  by  the  aforesaid  Waller ” 

“ You  know,  each  man  uses  his  choice  in  this  particular/’ 
said  Jack. 

“ and,  for  the  space  of  four  calendar  weeks,  be  under  the 

aforesaid  Waller  as  his  skip,  or  valet,  receiving,  in  the  event  of 
success,  the  like  compensation  as  aforesaid,  each  promising 
strictly  to  maintain  the  terms  of  this  agreement,  and  binding, 
by  a solemn  pledge,  to  divest  himself  of  every  right  appertain* 
ing  to  his  former  condition,  for  the  space  of  time  there  men* 
tioned.” 

We  signed  and  sealed  it  formally,  and  finished  another  flask 
to  its  perfect  ratification.  This  done,  and  after  a hearty  shake 
hands,  we  parted  and  retired  for  the  night. 

The  first  thing  I saw  on  waking  the  following  morning  was 
Jack  Waller  standing  beside  my  bed,  evidently  in  excellent 
spirits  with  himself  and  all  the  world. 

“ Harry,  my  boy,  I have  done  it  gloriously/’  said  he.  “ I 
only  remembered  on  parting  with  you  last  night,  that  one  of  the 
most  marked  features  in  our  old  colonel’s  character  is  a certain 
vague  idea  he  has  somewhere  picked  up  that  he  has  been  at 
some  very  remote  period  of  his  history  a most  distinguished  offi- 
cer. This  notion,  it  appears,  haunts  his  mind,  and  he  abso- 
lutely believes  he  has  been  in  every  engagement  from  the 
Seven  Years’  War  down  to  the  battle  of  Waterloo.  You  cannot 
mention  a siege  he  did  not  lay  down  the  first  parallel  for,  nor  a 
storming  party  where  he  did  not  lead  the  forlorn  hope  ; and 
there  is  not  a regiment  in  the  service,  from  those  that  formed  the 
fighting  brigade  of  Picton  down  to  the  London  train-bands,  with 
which,  to  use  his  own  phrase,  he  has  not  fought  and  bled.  This 
mania  of  heroism  is  droll  enough,  when  one  considers  that  the 
sphere  of  his  action  was  necessarily  so  limited  ; but  yet  we  have 
every  reason  to  be  thankful  for  the  peculiarity,  as  you’ll  say. 
when  I inform  you  that  this  morning  I despatched  a hasty  mes* 
senger  to  his  villa,  with  a most  polite  note,  setting  forth  that 
‘ as  Mr.  Lorrequer  ’ — ay,  Harry,  all  aboveboard — there  is  noth- 
ing like  it — ‘ as  Mr.  Lorrequer,  of  the  — th,  was  collecting  for 
publication  such  materials  as  might  serve  to  commemorate  the 
distinguished  achievempnts  of  British  officers,  who  have,  at  any 


CHELTENHAM . 


95 


time,  been  in  command,  he  most  respectfully  requests  an  inten 
view  with  Colonel  Kamworth,  whose  distinguished  services,  on 
many  gallant  occasions,  have  called  forth  the  unqualified  appro v- 
al  of  his  Majesty’s  government.  Mr.  Lorrequer’s  stay  is  neces- 
sarily limited  to  a few  days,  as  he  proceeds  from  this  to  visit 
Lord  Anglesey,  and,  therefore,  would  humbly  suggest  as  early  a 
meeting  as  would  suit  Colonel  K.’s  convenience.’  What  think 
you  now?  Is  this  a master-stroke,  or  not  ? ” 

“ Why,  certainly,  we  are  in  for  it  now,”  said  I,  drawing  a deep 
sigh.  “But,  Jack,  what  is  all  this  ? Why,  you’re  in  livery  al- 
ready ! ” 

I now,  for  the  first  time,  perceived  that  Waller  was  arrayed 
in  a very  decorous  suit  of  dark  gray,  with  cord  shorts  and  boots, 
and  looked  a very  knowing  style  of  servant  for  the  side  of  a til- 
bury. 

“ You  like  it,  do  you  ? Well,  I should  have  preferred  some- 
thing a little  more  showy  myself ; but  as  you  chose  this  last 
night,  I of  course  gave  way  ; and,  after  all,  I believe  you’re  right 
— it  certainly  is  neat.” 

“ Did  I choose  it  last  night  ? I have  not  the  slightest  recol- 
lection of  it.” 

“ Yes,  you  were  most  particular  about  the  length  of  the  waist- 
coat and  the  height  of  the  cockade,  and  you  see  I have  followed 
your  orders  tolerably  close ; and  now,  adieu  to  sweet  equality 
for  the  season,  and  I am  your  most  obedient  servant  for  four 
weeks — see  that  you  make  the  most  of  it.” 

While  we  were  talking,  the  waiter  entered  with  a note  ad- 
dressed to  me,  which  I rightly  conjectured  could  only  come 
from  Colonel  Kamworth.  It  ran  thus  : — 

“ Colonel  Kamworth  feels  highly  flattered  by  the  polite  atten- 
iton  of  Mr.  Lorrequer,  and  will  esteem  it  a particular  favor  if 
Mr.  L.  can  afford  him  the  few  days  his  stay  in  this  part  of  the 
country  will  permit,  by  spending  them  at  Hydrabad  Cottage. 
Any  information  as  to  Colonel  Kamworth’s  services  in  the  four 
quarters  of  the  globe,  he  need  not  say,  is  entirely  at  Mr.  L.’s 
disposal. 

“ Colonel  K.  dines  at  six  precisely.” 

When  Waller  had  read  the  note  through,  he  tossed  his  hat 
up  in  the  air,  and,  with  something  little  short  of  an  Indian 
vdioop,  shouted  out, — 

“ The  game  is  won  already ! Harry,  my  man,  give  me  the 
check  for  ten  thousand  : she  is  your  own  this  minute.” 

Without  participating  entirely  in  Walter’s  exceeding  delight,  I 


96 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


could  not  help  feeling  a growing  interest  in  the  part  I was  ad^ 
vertised  to  perform,  and  began  my  rehearsal  with  more  spirit 
than  I thought  I should  have  been  able  to  command. 

The  same  evening,  at  the  same  hour  as  that  in  which  on  the 
preceding  night  I sat  lone  and  comfortless  by  the  coffee-room 
fire,  I was  seated  opposite  a very  pompous,  respectable-looking 
old  man,  with  a large,  stiff  queue  of  white  hair,  who  pressed  me 
repeatedly  to  fill  my  glass  and  pass  the  decanter.  The  room 
was  a small  library,  with  handsomely-fitted  shelves ; there 
were  but  four  chairs,  but  each  would  have  made  at  least  three 
of  any  modern  one ; the  curtains,  of  deep  crimson  cloth,  ef- 
fectually secured  the  room  from  draught,  and  the  cheerful  wood 
fire  blazing  on  the  hearth,  which  was  the  only  light  in  the 
apartment,  gave  a most  inviting  look  of  comfort  and  snugness 
to  everything.  “ This,”  thought  I,  “ is  all  excellent,  and  how- 
ever the  adventure  ends,  this  is  certainly  pleasant,  and  I never 
tasted  better  Madeira.” 

“ And  so,  Mr.  Lorrequer,  you  heard  of  my  affair  at  Cantan- 
trabad,  when  I took  the  Rajah  prisoner  ? ” 

“ Yes,”  said  I ; “ the  Governor-General  mentioned  the  gallant 
business  the  very  last  time  I dined  at  Government  House.” 

“ Ah,  did  he  ? kind  of  him,  though.  Well,  sir,  I received  two 
lacs  of  rupees  on  the  morning  after,  and  a promise  of  ten  more 
if  I would  permit  him  to  escape  ; but  no — I refused  flatly.” 

“ Is  it  possible  ! And  what  did  you  do  with  the  two  lacs  ? — 
sent  them  back,  of  course ” 

“No,  that  I didn’t ; the  wretches  know  nothing  of  the  use  of 
money.  No,  no ; I have  them  this  moment  in  good  Govern- 
ment security.  I believe  I never  mentioned  to  you  the  storm- 
ing of  Java.  Fill  yourself  another  glass,  and  I’ll  describe  it  all 
to  you,  for  it  will  be  of  infinite  consequence  that  a true  narra- 
tive of  this  meets  the  public  eye — they  really  are  quite  ignorant 
of  it.  Here,  now,  is  Fort  Cornelius,  and  there  is  the  moat ; the 
sugar-basin  is  the  citadel,  and  the  tongs  is  the  first  trench ; the 
decanter  will  represent  the  tall  tower  towards  the  south-west  an- 
gle, and  here,  the  wine-glass — this  is  me.  Well,  it  was  a little 
after  ten  at  night  that  I got  the  order  from  the  general  in  com- 
mand to  march  upon  this  plate  of  figs,  which  was  an  open  space 
before  Fort  Cornelius,  and  to  take  up  my  position  in  front  of 
the  fort,  and  with  four  pieces  of  field  artillery — these  walnuts 
here — to  be  ready  to  open  my  fire  at  a moment’s  warning  upon 
the  sou’-west  tower ; but,  my  dear  sir,  you  have  moved  the  tow- 
er ; I thought  you  were  drinking  Madeira.  As  I said  before, 
to  open  my  fire  upon  the  sou’-west  tower,  or,  if  necessary,  to  pro- 
tect the  sugar-tongs,  which  I explained  to  you  was  the  trench. 


CHELTENHAM. 


97 

Just  at  the  same  time,  the  besieged  were  making  preparations 
for  a sortie  to  occupy  this  dish  of  almonds  and  raisins — the  high 
ground  to  the  left  of  my  position — put  another  log  on  the  fire,  if 
you  please,  sir,  for  I cannot  see  myself — I thought  I was  up 
near  the  figs,  and  I find  myself  down  near  the  half-moon — ” 

“ It  is  past  nine,”  said  a servant,  entering  the  room  ; “ shall  I 
take  the  carriage  for  Miss  Kamworth,  sir  ? ” 

This  being  the  first  time  the  name  of  the  young  lady  was  men- 
tioned since  my  arrival,  I felt  somewhat  anxious  to  hear  more 
of  her,  in  which  laudable  desire  I was  not,  however,  to  be  grati- 
fied, for  the  colonel,  feeling  considerably  annoyed  by  the  inter- 
ruption, dismissed  the  servant,  by  saying, — 

“ What  do  you  mean,  sirrah,  by  coming  in  at  this  moment  ? 
Don’t  you  see  I am  preparing  for  the  attack  on  the  half-moon  ? 
Mr.  Lorrequer,  I beg  your  pardon  for  one  moment ; this  fellow 
has  completely'put  me  out ; and  besides,  I perceive  you  have  eat- 
en the  flying  artillery,  and,  in  fact,  my  dear  sir,  I shall  be  obliged 
to  lay  down  the  position  again.” 

With  this  praiseworthy  interest  the  colonel  proceeded  to  ar- 
range the  materiel  of  our  dessert  in  battle  array,  when  the  dooi 
was  suddenly  thrown  open,  and  a very  handsome  girl,  in  a most 
becoming  demi-toilette , sprang  into  the  room,  and  either  not  no- 
ticing, or  not  caring,  that  a stranger  was  present,  threw  herself 
into  the  old  gentleman’s  arms,  with  a degree  of  empressement 
ceedingly  vexatious  for  any  third  and  unoccupied  party  to  witness. 

“ Mary,  my. dear,”  said  the  colonel,  completely  forgetting 
Java  and  Fort  Cornelius  at  once,  “ you  don’t  perceive  I have  a 
gentleman  to  introduce  to  you — Mr.  Lorrequer,  my  daughter, 
Miss  Kamworth.”  Here  the  young  lady  courtesied*  somewhat 
stiffly,  and  I bowed  reverently;  and  we  all  resumed  places.  I 
now  found,  out  that  Miss  Kamworth  had  been  spending  the  pre- 
ceding four  or  five  days  at  a friend’s  in  the  neighborhood,  and 
had  preferred  coming  home  somewhat  unexpectedly  to  waiting 
for  her  own  carriage. 

My  “ Confessions,”  if  recorded  verbatim  from  the  notes  of 
that  four  weeks’  sojourn,  would  only  increase  the  already  too 
prolix  and  uninteresting  details  of  this  chapter  of  my  life  ; I 
need  only  say,  that  without  falling  in  love  with  Mary  Kamworth, 
I felt  prodigiously  disposed  thereto.  She  was  extremely  pretty, 
had  a foot  and  ankle  to  swear  by,  the  most  silvery-toned  voice 
I almost  ever  heard,  and  a certain  witchery  and  archness  of 
man  ier  that  bv  its  very  tantalizing  uncertainty  continually  pro- 
voked attention,  and  by  suggesting  a difficulty  in  the  road  to 
success,  imparted  a more  than  common  zest  in  the  pursuit.  She 
was  a little,  a very  little  blue — rather  a dabbler  in  the  “ ologies  ” 
7 


58 


HA RR  Y L ORREQ  UER. 


than  a real  disciple.  Yet  she  made  collections  of  minerals,  and 
brown  beetles,  and  cryptogamias,  and  various  other  homoeo- 
pathic doses  of  the  creation,  infinitesimally  small  in  their  subdi- 
vision, in  none  of  which  I felt  any  interest,  save  in  the  excuse 
they  gave  for  accompanying  her  in  her  pony-phaeton.  This  was, 
however  a rare  pleasure,  since  every  morning  for  at  least  three 
or  four  hours,  I was  obliged  to  sit  opposite  the  colonel,  engaged 
in  the  compilation  of  that  narrative  of  his  deeds,  which  was  to 
eclipse  the  career  of  Napoleon,  and  leave  Wellington’s  laurels 
but  a very  faded  lustre  in  comparison.  In  this  agreeable  occu- 
pation did  I pass  the  greater  part  of  my  day,  listening  to  the  in- 
sufferable prolixity  of  the  most  prolix  of  colonels,  and  at  times, 
notwithstanding  the  propinquity  of  relationship  which  awaited 
us,  almost  regretting  that  he  was  not  blown  up  in  any  of  the  nu- 
merous explosions  his  memoir  abounded  with.  I may  here  men- 
tion, that  while  my  literary  labor  was  thus  progressing,  the 
young  lady  continued  her  avocations  as  before — not,  indeed 
with  me  for  her  companion,  but  Waller — for  Colonel  Kam- 
worth,  “ having  remarked  the  steadiness  and  propriety  of  my 
man,  felt  no  scruple  in  sending  him  out  to  drive  Miss  Kam- 
worth,”  particularly  as  I gave  him  a most  excellent  character 
for  every  virtue  under  heaven. 

I must  hasten  on.  The  last  evening  of  my  four  weeks  was 
drawing  to  a close.  Colonel  Kamworth  had  pressed  me  to  pro- 
long my  visit,  and  I only  waited  for  Waller’s  return  from  Chel- 
tenham, whither  I had  sent  him  for  my  letters,  to  make  arrange- 
ments with  him  to  absolve  me  from  my  ridiculous  bond,  and  ac- 
cept the  invitation.  We  were  sitting  round  the  library  fire,  the 
colonel,  as  usual,  narrating  his  early  deeds  and  hair-breadth 
’scapes  ; Mary,  embroidering  an  indescribable  something,  which 
every  evening  made  its  appearance,  but  seemed  never  to  advance, 
was  rather  in  better  spirits  than  usual,  at  the  same  time  her  man- 
ner was  nervous  and  uncertain  ; and  I could  perceive,  by  her 
frequent  absence  of  mind,  that  her  thoughts  were  not  as  much 
occupied  by  the  siege  of  Java  as  her  worthy  father  believed 
them.  Without  laying  any  stress  upon  the  circumstance,  I 
must  yet  avow  that  Waller’s  not  having  returned  from  Chelten- 
ham gave  me  some  uneasiness,  and  I more  than  once  had  re- 
course to  the  bell  to  demand  if  “ my  servant  had  come  back 
yet  ? ” At  each  of  these  times  I well  remember  the  peculiar  ex- 
pression of  Mary’s  look,  the  half  embarrassment,  half  drollery, 
with  which  she  listened  to  the  question,  and  heard  the  answer 
in  the  negative.  Supper  at  length  made  its  appearance ; and  I 
asked  the  servant  who  waited  “ if  my  man  had  brought  me  any 
letters,”  varying  my  inqu;"y  to  conceal  my  anxiety ; and  again 


CHELTENHAM. 


99 


I heard  he  had  not  returned.  Resolving  now  to  propose  in  all 
form  for  Miss  Kamworth  the  next  morning,  and  by  referring 
the  colonel  to  my  uncle  Sir  Guy,  smooth,  as  far  as  I could,  all 
difficulties,  I wished  them  good-night,  and  retired  ; not,  how- 
ever, before  the  colonel  had  warned  me  that  they  were  to  have 
an  excursion  to  some  place  in  the  neighborhood  the  next  day, 
and  begging  that  I might  be  in  the  breakfast-room  at  nine,  as 
they  were  to  assemble  there  from  all  parts,  and  start  early  on 
the  expedition.  I was  in  a sound  sleep  the  following  morning, 
when  a gentle  tap  at  the  door  awoke  me ; at  the  same  time  I 
recognized  the  voice  of  the  colonel’s  servant,  saying  “ Mr.  Lor- 
requer,  breakfast  is  waiting,  sir.” 

I sprang  up  at  once,  and  replying,  “ Very  well,  I shall  come 
down,”  proceeded  to  dress  in  all  haste,  but  to  my  horror  I could 
not  discern  a vestige  of  my  clothes;  nothing  remained  of  the  ha- 
biliments I possessed  only  the  day  before — even  my  portmanteau 
had  disappeared.  After  a most  diligent  search,  I discovered  on 
a chair  in  a corner  of  the  room  a small  bundle  tied  up  in  a hand- 
kerchief, on  opening  which  I perceived  a new  suit  of  livery  of 
the  most  gaudy  and  showy  description  ; the  vest  and  breeches 
of  yellow  plush,  with  light  blue  binding  and  lace,  of  which 
color  was  also  the  coat,  which  had  a standing  collar  and  huge 
cuffs,  deeply  ornamented  with  worked  button-holes  and  large 
buttons.  As  I turned  the  things  over,  without  even  a guess  of 
what  they  could  mean,  for  I was  scarcely  well  awake,  I perceived 
a small  slip  of  paper  fastened  to  the  coat-sleeve,  upon  which, 
in  Waller’s  handwriting,  the  following  few  words  were  written  : — 

“ The  livery  I hope  will  fit  you,  as  I am  rather  particulai 
about  how  you’ll  look.  Get  quietly  down  to  the  stable-yard, 
and  drive  the  tilbury  into  Cheltenham,  where  wait  for  further 
orders  from  your  kind  master, 

“ John  Waller.” 

The  horrible  villany  of  this  wild  scamp  actually  paralyzed 
me.  That  I should  put  on  such  ridiculous  trumpery  was  out  of 
the  question  : yet  what  was  to  be  done  ? I rang  the  bell  vio- 
lently. “ Where  are  my  clothes,  Thomas  ? ” 

“ Don’t  know,  sir ; I was  out  all  the  morning,  sir,  and  never 
seed  them.” 

“ There,  Thomas,  be  smart  now,  and  send  them  up,  will  you  ? ” 
Thomas  disappeared,  and  speedily  returned  to  say,  “ that  my 
clothes  could  not  be  found  anywhere  ; no  one  knew  anything  of 
them,  and  begged  me  to  come  down,  as  Miss  Kamworth  de- 
sired him  to  say  that  they  were  still  waiting,  and  she  begged 


too 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


Mr.  Lorrequer  would  not  make  an  elaborate  toilette,  as  they 
were  going  on  a country  excursion.”  An  elaborate  toilette.  I 
wish  to  Heaven  she  saw  my  costume  ; no,  I’ll  never  do  it. 
44  Thomas,  you  must  tell  the  ladies,  and  the  colonel,  too,  that  I 
feel  very  ill ; I am  not  able  to  leave  my  bed  ; I am  subject  to 
attacks — very  violent  attacks  in  my  head,  and  must  always  be 
left  quiet  and  alone — perfectly  alone — mind  me,  Thomas — for  a 
day  at  least.”  Thomas  departed  ; and  as  I lay  distracted  in 
my  bed,  I heard  from  the  breakfast-room,  the  loud  laughter  of 
many  persons,  evidently  enjoying  some  excellent  joke.  Could 
it  be  me  they  were  laughing  at  ? The  thought  was  horrible  ! 

“ Colonel  Kamworth  wishes  to  know  if  you’d  like  the  doc- 
tor, sir,”  said  Thomas,  evidently  suppressing  a most  inveter- 
ate fit  of  laughing,  as  he  again  appeared  at  the  door. 

44  No,  certainly  not,”  said  I,  in  a voice  of  thunder.  44  What 
the  devil  are  you  grinning  at?  ” 

44  You  may  as  well  come,  my  man  ; you’re  found  out ; they  all 
know  it  now,”  said  the  fellow,  with  an  odious  grin. 

I jumped  out  of  the  bed,  and  hurled  the  boot-jack  at  him 
with  all  my  strength  ; but  had  only  the  satisfaction  to  hear  him 
go  down  stairs  chuckling  at  his  escape  ; and  as  he  reached  the 
parlor,  the  increase  of  mirth  and  the  loudness  of  the  laughter 
told  me  that  he  was  not  the  only  one  who  was  merry  at  my  ex- 
pense. Anything  was  preferable  to  this.  Down  stairs  I resolved 
to  go  at  once — but  how  ? — a blanket,  I thought,  would  not  be  a 
bad  thing,  and  particularly  as  I had  said  I was  ill ; I could  at 
least  get  as  far  as  Colonel  Kamworth’s  dressing-room,  and  ex- 
plain to  him  the  whole  affair  ; but  then,  if  I was  detected  en  route! 
which  I was  almost  sure  to  be,  with  so  many  people  parading 
about  the  house.  No,  that  would  never  do  ; there  was  but  one 
alternative,  and  dreadful,  shocking  as  it  was,  I could  not  avoid 
it,  and  with  a heavy  heart,  and  as  much  indignation  at  Waller, 
for  what  I could  not  but  consider  a most  scurvy  trick,  I donned 
the  yellow  inexpressibles  ; next  came  the  vest,  and  last  the 
coat,  with  its  broad  flaps  and  lace  excrescences,  fifty  times 
more  absurd  and  merry-andrew  than  any  stage  servant  who 
makes  off  with  his  table  and  two  chairs  amid  the  hisses  and 
gibes  of  the  upper  gallery. 

If  my  costume  leaned  towards  the  ridiculous,  I resolved  that 
my  air  and  bearing  should  be  more  than  usually  austere  and 
haughty;  and  with  something  of  the  stride  of  John  Kemble  in 
Coriolanus , I was  leaving  my  bedroom,  when  I accidentally  caught 
a view  of  myself  in  the  glass  ; and  so  mortified,  so  shocked  was 
I,  that  I sank  into  a chair,  and  almost  abandoned  my  resolution 
to  go  on  ; the  very  gesture  I had  assumed  for  my  vindication 


CHELTENHAM . 


lot 


only  increased  the  ridicule  of  my  appearance  : and  the  strange 
quaintness  of  the  costume  totally  obliterated  every  trace  of  any 
characteristic  of  the  wearer,  so  infernally  cunning  was  its  con- 
trivance. I don’t  think  that  the  most  saturnine  martyr  of  gout 
and  dyspepsia  could  survey  me  without  laughing.  With  a bold 
effort  I flung  open  my  door,  hurried  down  the  stairs,  and  reached 
the  hall.  The  first  person  I met  was  a kind  of  pantry-boy,  a 
beast  only  lately  emancipated  from  the  plough,  and  destined, 
after  a dozen  years  training  as  a servant,  again  to  be  turned 
back  to  his  old  employ  for  incapacity  ; he  grinned  horribly  for 
a minute  as  I passed,  and  then,  in  a half-whisper,  said, — 

“ Maester,  I advise  ye  to  run  for  it ; they’re  a-waiting  for  ye 
with  the  constables  in  the  justice’s  room.”  I gave  him  a look 
of  contemptuous  superiority  at  which  he  grinned  the  more,  and 
passed  on. 

Without  stopping  to  consider  where  I was  going,  I opened 
the  door  of  the  breakfast-parlor,  and  found  myself  at  one  plunge 
in  a room  full  of  people.  My  first  impulse  was  to  retreat  again  ; 
but  so  shocked  was  I at  the  very  first  thing  that  met  my  sight,  that 
I was  perfectly  powerless  to  do  anything.  Among  a considerable 
number  of  people  who  stood  in  small  groups  round  the  break- 
fast-table, I discerned  Jack  Waller  habited  in  a very  accurate 
black  frock  and  dark  trousers,  supporting  upon  his  arm — shall 
I confess — no  less  a person  than  Mary  Kamworth,  who  leaned 
on  him  with  the  familiarity  of  an  old  acquaintance,  and  chatted 
gayly  with  him.  The  buzz  of  conversation  which  filled  the 
apartment  when  I entered  ceased  for  a second  of  deep  silence ; 
and  then  followed  a peal  of  laughter  so  long  and  so  vociferous, 
that  in  my  momentary  anger  I prayed  some  one  might  bur.t 
a blood-vessel,  and  frighten  the  rest.  I put  on  a look  of 
indescribable  indignation,  and  cast  a glance  of  what  I intended 
should  be  most  withering  scorn  on  the  assembly ; but,  alas  ! my 
infernal  harlequin  costume  ruined  the  effect ; and  confound  me, 
if  they  did  not  laugh  the  louder.  I turned  from  one  to  the  other 
with  the  air  of  a man  who  marks  out  victims  for  his  future  wrath  ; 
but  with  no  better  success;  at  last,  amid  the  continued  mirth 
of  the  party,  I made  my  way  towards  where  Waller  stood  abso- 
lutely suffocated  with  laughter,  and  scarcely  able  to  stand  with- 
out support. 

“Waller,”  said  I,  in  a voice  half  tremulous  with  rage  and 
shame  together — “ Waller,  if  this  rascally  trick  be  yours,  rest 
assured  no  former  term  of  intimacy  between  us  shall ” 

Before  I could  conclude  the  sentence,  a bustle  at  the  door  of 
the  room  called  every  attention  in  that  direction ; I turned  and 
beheld  Colonel  Kamworth,  followed  by  a strong  posse  comitatus 


102 


HARRY  LORREQUER . 


of  constables,  tipstaffs,  &c.,  armed  to  the  teeth,  and  evidently 
prepared  for  vigorous  battle.  Before  I was  able  to  point  out 
my  woes  to  my  kind  host,  he  burst  out, — 

“ So  you  scoundrel,  you  impostor,  you  infernal  young  villain, 
pretending  to  be  a gentleman,  you  get  admission  into  a man’s 
house  and  dine  at  his  table,  when  your  proper  place  had  been 
behind  his  chair ! How  far  he  might  have  gone,  Heaven  can 
tell,  if  that  excellent  young  gentleman,  his  master,  had  not 
traced  him  here  this  morning ; but  you’ll  pay  dearly  for  it,  you 
young  rascal,  that  you  shall.” 

“ Colonel  Kamworth,”  said  I,  drawing  myselt  proudly  up  (and, 
I confess,  exciting  new  bursts  of  laughter) — “ Colonel  Kamworth, 
for  the  expressions  you  have  just  applied  to  me,  a heavy  reckon- 
ing awaits  you  ; not,  however,  before  another  individual  now 
present  shall  atone  for  the  insult  he  has  dared  to  pass  upon  me.” 
Colonel  Kamworth’s  passion  at  this  declaration  knew  no 
bounds ; he  cursed  and  swore  absolutely  like  a madman,  and 
vowed  that  transportation  for  life  would  be  a mild  sentence  for 
such  an  iniquity. 

Waller  at  length,  wiping  the  tears  of  laughter  from  his  eyes, 
interposed  between  the  colonel  and  his  victim,  and  begged  that 
I might  be  forgiven  ; “ For  indeed,  my  dear  sir,”  said  he,  “ the 
poor  fellow  is  of  rather  respectable  parentage,  and  such  is  his 
taste  for  good  society,  that  he’d  run  any  risk  to  be  among  his 
betters,  although,  as  in  the  present  case,  the  exposure  brings  a 
rather  heavy  retribution ; — hovvever,  let  me  deal  with  him. 
Come,  Henry,”  said  he,  with  an  air  of  insufferable  superiority, 
“ take  my  tilbury  into  town,  and  wait  for  me  at  the  George  , I 
shall  endeavor  to  make  your  peace  with  my  excellent  friend, 
Colonel  Kamworth,  and  the  best  mode  you  can  contribute  to 
that  object,  is  to  let  us  have  no  more  of  your  society.” 

I cannot  attempt  to  picture  my  rage  at  these  words ; how- 
ever, escape  from  this  diabolical  predicament  was  my  only 
present  object,  and  I rushed  from  the  room,  and  springing  into 
the  tilbury  at  the  door,  drove  down  the  avenue  at  the  rate  of 
fifteen  miles  per  hour,  amid  the  united  cheers,  groans,  and  yells 
of  the  whole  servants’-hall,  who  seemed  to  enjoy  my  ‘‘detection,” 
more  even  than  their  betters.  Meditating  vengeance,  sharp, 
short,  and  decisive,  on  Waller,  the  colonel,  and  every  one  else 
in  the  infernal  conspiracy  against  me — for  I utterly  forgot  every 
vestige  of  our  agreement  in  the  surprise  by  which  I was  taken 
— I reached  Cheltenham.  Unfortunately,  I had  no  friend  there 
to  whose  management  I could  commit  the  bearing  of  a message, 
and  was  obliged,  as  soon  as  I could  procure  suitable  costume, 
to  hasten  up  to  Coventry,  where  the  — th  dragoons  were  then 


CHELTENHAM. 


quartered.  I lost  no  time  in  selecting  an  adviser,  and  taking 
the  necessary  steps  to  bring  Master  Waller  to  a reckoning;  and 
on  the  third  morning  we  again  reached  Cheltenham,  I thirsting 
for  vengeance,  and  bursting  still  with  anger ; not  so,  my  friend, 
however,  who  never  could  discuss  the  affair  with  common  gravity, 
and  even  ventured  every  now  and  then  on  a sly  allusion  to  my 
yellow  shorts.  As  we  passed  the  last  toll-bar,  a travelling  car- 
riage came  whirling  by  with  four  horses  at  a tremendous  pace  ; 
and  as  the  morning  was  frosty,  and  the  sun  scarcely  risen,  the 
whole  team  were  smoking  and  steaming,  so  as  to  be  half  invis- 
ible. We  both  remarked  on  the  precipitancy  of  the  party  ; for 
as  our  own  pace  was  considerable,  the  two  vehicles  passed  like 
lightning.  We  had  scarcely  dressed,  and  ordered  breakfast, 
when  a more  than  usual  bustle  in  the  yard  called  us  to  the  win- 
dow ; the  waiter,  who  came  in  at  the  same  instant,  told  us  that 
four  horses  were  ordered  out  to  pursue  a young  lady  who  had 
eloped  that  morning  with  an  officer. 

“ Ah,  our  friend  in  the  green  travelling-chariot,  I’ll  be  bound,” 
said  my  companion  ; but  as  neither  of  us  knew  that  part  of  the 
country,  and  I was  too  engrossed  by  my  own  thoughts,  I never 
inquired  further.  As  the  chaise  in  chase  drove  round  to  the 
door,  I looked  to  see  what  the  pursuer  was  like  ; and  as  he 
issued  from  the  inn,  recognized  my  ci-devant  host,  Colonel 
Kamworth.  J need  not  say  my  vengeance  was  sated  at  once ; 
he  had  lost  his  daughter,  and  Waller  was  on  the  road  to  be 
married.  Apologies  and  explanations  came  in  due  time 
for  all  my  injuries  and  sufferings ; and  I confess  the  part 
which  pleased  me  most  was,  that  I saw  no  more  of  Jack  for  a 
considerable  period  after : he  started  for  the  Continent,  where 
he  has  lived  ever  since  on  a small  allowance  grantedby  his  fa- 
ther-in-law, and  never  paying  me  the  stipulated  sum,  as  I had 
clearly  broken  the  compact. 

So  much  for  my  second  attempt  at  matrimony.  One  would 
suppose  that  such  experience  should  be  deemed  sufficient  to 
show  that  my  talent  did  not  lie  in  that  way.  And  here  I must 
rest  for  the  present,  with  the  additional  confession,  that  so  strong 
was  the  memory  of  that  vile  adventure,  that  I refused  a lucrative 
appointment  under  Lord  Anglesey’s  government,  when  I discov- 
ered that  his  livery  included  “ yellow  plush  breeches ; ” to  have 
such  souvenirs  flitting  around  and  about  me,  at  dinner  and  else* 
where,  would  have  left  me  without  a pleasure  in  existence. 


104 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

DUBLIN — TOM  O’FLAHERTY — A REMINISCENCE  OF  THE 
PENINSULA. 

Dear  dirty  Dublin  ! — Jo  te  saluto — how  many  excellent  things 
might  be  said  of  thee,  if,  unfortunately,  it  did  not  happen  that  the 
theme  is  an  old  one,  and  has  been  much  better  sung  than  it  can 
ever  now  be  said.  With  thus  much  of  apology  for  no  more 
lengthened  panegyric,  let  me  beg  of  my  reader,  if  he  be  conver- 
sant with  that  most  moving  melody — the  Groves  of  Blarney— to 
hum  the  following  lines,  which  I heard  shortly  after  my  landing, 
and  which  well  express  my  own  feelings  for  the  “ loved  spot.” 

“ Oh ! Dublin,  sure,  there  is  no  doubtin’, 

Beats  every  city  upon  the  say  ; 

’Tis  there  you’ll  see  O’Connell  spouting, 

And  Lady  Morgan  making  “ tayd 
For  ’tis  the  capital  of  the  greatest  nation, 

With  finest  pleasantry  on  a fruitful  sod, 

Fighting  like  devils  for  conciliation, 

And  hating  each  other  for  the  love  of  God.” 

Once  more,  then,  I found  myself  in  the  “ most  car-drivingest 
city,”  en  route  to  join  on  the  expiration  of  my  leave.  Since  my 
departure,  my  regiment  had  been  ordered  to  Kilkenny,  that 
sweet  city,  so  famed  in  song  for  its  “fire  without  smoke  ; ” but 
which,  were  its  character  in  any  way  to  be  derived  from  its  past 
or  present  representative,  might  certainly,  with  more  propriety, 
reverse  the  epithet,  and  read  “ smoke  without  fire.”  My  last 
communication  from  headquarters  was  full  of  nothing  but  gay 
doings.  Balls,  dinners,  dejeuners , and  more  than  all,  private 
theatricals,  seemed  to  occupy  the  entire  attention  of  every  man 
of  the  gallant  — th.  I was  earnestly  entreated  to  come,  without 
waiting  for  the  end  of  my  leave  ; that  several  of  my  old  “ parts 
were  kept  open  for  me  ; ” and  that,  in  fact,  the  “ boys  of  Kil- 
kenny ” were  on  tiptoe  in  expectation  of  my  arrival,  as  though 
his  Majesty’s  mail  were  to  convey  a Kean  or  a Kemble.  I 
shuddered  a little  as  I read  this,  and  recollected  “my  last 
appearance  on  any  stage,”  little  anticipating,  at  the  moment, 
that  my  next  was  to  be  nearly  as  productive  of  the  ludicrous,  as 
time  and  my  “ Confessions  ” will  show.  One  circumstance, 
however,  gave  me  considerable  pleasure.  It  was  this  : I took 
it  for  granted  that,  in  the  varied  and  agreeable  occupa- 
tions which  so  pleasurable  a career  opened,  my  adventures 
in  love  would  escape  notice,  and  that  I should  avoid  the 
merciless  raillery  my  two  failures,  in  six  months,  might  reasons 


DUBLIN. 


105 

bly  be  supposed  to  call  forth.  I therefore  wrote  a hurried  note 
to  Curzon,  setting  forth  the  great  interest  all  their  proceedings 
had  for  me,  and  assuring  him  that  my  stay  in  town  should  be  as 
short  as  possible,  for  that  I longed  once  more  to  “ strut  the 
monarch  of  the  boards,”  and  concluded  with  a sly  paragraph, 
artfully  intended  to  act  as  a pciratonnierre  to  the  gibes  and  jests 
which  I dreaded,  by  endeavoring  to  make  light  of  my  matrimo- 
nial speculations.  The  postscript  ran  somewhat  thus — “ Glo- 
rious fun  have  I had  since  we  met ; but  were  it  not  that  my 
good  angle  stood  by  me,  I should  write  these  hurried  lines  with 
a wife  at  my  elbow  ; but  luck,  that  never  yet  deserted,  is  still 
faithful  to  your  old  friend,  H.  Lorrequer.” 

My  reader  may  suppose — for  he  is  sufficiently  behind  the 
scenes  with  me — with  what  feelings  I penned  these  words ; yet 
anything  was  better  than  the  attack  I looked  forward  to : and  I 
should  rather  have  changed  into  the  Cape  Rifle  Corps,  or  any 
other  army  of  martyrs,  than  meet  my  mess  with  all  the  ridicule 
my  late  proceedings  exposed  me  to.  Having  disburdened  my 
conscience  of  this  dread,  I finished  my  breakfast,  and  set  out  on  a 
stroll  through  the  town. 

I believe  it  is  Coleridge  who  somewhere  says,  that  to  transmit 
the  first  bright  and  early  impressions  of  our  youth,  fresh  and  un- 
injured, to  a remote  period  of  life,  constitutes  one  of  the  loftiest 
prerogatives  of  genius.  If  this  be  true — and  I am  not  disposed 
to  dispute  it — what  a gifted  people  must  be  the  worthy  inhabi- 
tants of  Dublin ; for  I scruple  not  to  affirm,  that  of  all  cities  of 
which  we  have  any  record  in  history,  sacred  or  profane,  there  is 
not  one  so  little  likely  to  disturb  the  tranquil  current  of  such  rem- 
iniscences. “ As  it  was  of  old,  so  it  is  now,”  enjoying  a de- 
lightful permanency  in  its  habits  and  customs  which  no  changes 
elsewhere  disturb  or  affect ; and  in  this  respect  I defy  O’Connell 
and  all  the  tail  to  refuse  it  the  epithet  of  “ Conservative.” 

Had  the  excellent  Rip  Van  Winkle,  instead  of  seeking  his  re- 
pose upon  the  cold  and  barren  acclivities  of  the  Kaatskills — as. 
we  are  veritably  informed  by  Irving — but  betaken  himself  to  a 
comfortable  bed  at  Morrisson’s  or  the  Bilton,  not  only  would  he 
have  enjoyed  a more  agreeable  siesta,  but,  what  the  event 
showed  of  more  consequence,  the  pleasing  satisfaction  of  not 
being  disconcerted  by  novelty  on  his  awakening.  It  is  possible 
that  the  waiter  who  brought  him  the  water  to  shave — for  Rip’s 
beard,  we  are  told,  had  grown  uncommonly  long — might  exhibit 
a little  of  that  wear  and  tear  to  which  humanity  is  liable  from 
time ; but  had  he  questioned  him  as  to  the  ruling  topics — the 
popular  amusements  of  the  day — he  would  have  heard,  as  he 
might  have  done  twenty  years  before,  that  there  was  a meeting 


io6 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


to  convert  Jews  at  the  Rotunda;  another  to  rob  parsons  at  the 
Corn  Exchange ; that  the  Viceroy  was  dining  with  the  Corpora- 
tion,  and  congratulating  them  on  the  prosperity  of  Ireland, 
while  the  inhabitants  were  regaled  with  a procession  of  the 
“ broad  ribbon  weavers,”  who  had  not  weaved,  Heaven  knows 
when  ! This,  with  an  occasional  letter  from  Mr.  O’Connell,  and 
now  and  then  a duel  in  the  “ Phaynix,”  constituted  the  pastimes 
of  the  city.  Such,  at  least,  were  they  in  my  day ; and,  though  far 
from  the  dear  locale,  an  odd  flitting  glance  at  the  newspapers 
induces  me  to  believe  that  matters  are  not  much  changed  since. 

I rambled  through  the  streets  for  some  hours,  revolving  such 
thoughts  as  pressed  upon  me  involuntarily  by  all  I saw.  The 
same  little  gray  homuncules  that  filled  my  “ Prince’s  mixture  ” 
years  before,  stood  behind  the  counter  at  Lundy  Foot’s,  weigh- 
ing out  rappee  and  high  toast,  just  as  I last  saw  him.  The  fat 
college  porter,  that  I used  to  mistake  in  my  schoolboy  days  for 
the  Provost,  God  forgive  me  ! was  there  as  fat  and  as  ruddy  as 
heretofore,  and  wore  his  Roman  costume  of  helmet  and  plush 
breeches,  with  an  air  as  classic.  . The  State  trumpeter  at  the 
castle,  another  object  of  my  youthful  veneration,  poor  “ old  God 
save  the  King  ” as  we  used  to  call  him,  walked  the  streets  as  of 
old ; his  cheeks,  indeed,  a little  more  lanky  and  tendinous  ; but 
then  there  had  been  many  viceregal  changes,  and  the  “ one  sole 
melody  his  heart  delighted  in  ” had  been  more  frequently  called 
into  requisition,  as  he  marched  in  solemn  state  with  the  other 
antique  gentlemen  in  tabards.  As  I walked  along,  each  mo- 
ment some  familiar  and  early  association  being  suggested  by  the 
objects  around,  I felt  my  arm  suddenly  seized.  I turned  hastily 
round,  and  beheld  a very  old  companion  in  many  a hard-fought 
field  and  merry  bivouac,  Tom  O’Flaherty  of  the  8th.  Poor  Tom 
was  sadly  changed  since  we  last  met,  which  was  at  a ball  in  Mad- 
rid. He  was  then  one  of  the  best-looking  fellows  of  his  stamp 
I ever  met,  tall  and  athletic,  with  the  easy  bearing  of  a man  of 
the  world,  and  a certain  jauntiness  that  I have  never  seen  but  in 
Irishmen  who  have  mixed  much  in  society. 

There  was  also  a certain  peculiar  devil-may-care  recklessness 
about  the  self-satisfied  swagger  of  his  gait,  and  the  free-and-easy 
glance  of  his  sharp  black  eye,  united  with  a temper  that  nothing 
could  ruffle,  and  a courage  nothing  could  daunt.  With  such 
qualities  as  these,  he  had  been  the  prime  favorite  of  his  mess, 
to  which  he  never  came  without  some  droll  story  to  relate,  or 
some  choice  expedient  for  future  amusement.  Such  had  Tom 
once  been  : now  he  was  much  altered,  and  thought  he  quiet 
twinkle  of  his  dark  eye  showed  that  the  spirit  of  fun  within  was 
not  “ dead,  but  only  sleeping,”  to  myself,  who  knew  something 


DUBLIN. 


107 


of  his  history,  it  seemed  almost  cruel  to  awaken  him  to  anything 
which  might  bring  him  back  to  the  memory  of  bygone  clays.  A 
momentary  glance  showed  me  that  he  was  no  longer  what  he 
had  been,  and  that  the  unfortunate  change  in  his  condition,  the 
loss  of  all  his  earliest  and  oldest  associates,  and  his  blighted 
prospects,  had  nearly  broken  a heart  that  never  deserted  a 
friend  nor  quailed  before  an  enemy.  Poor  O’Flaherty  was  nc 
longer  the  delight  of  the  circle  he  once  adorned ; the  wit  that 
“ set  the  table  in  a roar  ” was  all  but  departed.  He  had  been 
dismissed  the  service  ! ! The  story  is  a brief  one  : 

In  the  retreat  from  Burgos,  the  — th  Light  Dragoons,  after  a 
fatiguing  day’s  march,  halted  at  the  wretched  village  of  Cabe- 
nas.  It  had  been  deserted  by  the  inhabitants  the  day  before, 
who,  on  leaving,  had  set  it  on  fire,  and  the  blackened  walls  and 
fallen  roof-trees  were  nearly  all  that  now  remained  to  sho\V 
where  the  little  hamlet  had  once  stood. 

Amid  a downpour  of  rain,  that  had  fallen  for  several  hours, 
drenched  to  the  skin,  cold,  weary,  and  nearly  starving,  the  gal- 
lant 8th  reached  this  melancholy  spot  at  nightfall,  with  little 
better  prospect  of  protection  from  the  storm  than  the  barren 
heath  through  which  their  road  led  might  afford  them.  Among 
the  many  who  muttered  curses,  not  loud  but  deep,  on  the 
wretched  termination  to  their  day’s  suffering,  there  was  one  who 
kept  up  his  usual  good  spirits,  and  not  only  seemed  himself 
nearly  regardless  of  the  privations  and  miseries  about  him,  but 
actually  succeeded  in  making  the  others  who  rode  alongside  as 
perfectly  forgetful  of  their  annoyances  and  troubles  as  was  pos- 
sible under  such  circumstances.  Good  stories,  joking  allusions 
to  the  more  discontented  ones  of  the  party,  ridiculous  plans  for  the 
night’s  encampment,  followed  each  other  so  rapidly,  that  the 
weariness  of  the  day  was  forgotten  ; and  while  some  were  curs- 
ing their  hard  fate  that  ever  betrayed  them  into  such  misfort- 
unes, the  little  group  round  O’Flaherty  were  almost  convulsed 
with  laughter  at  the  wit  and  drollery  of  one  over  whom,  if  the 
circumstances  had  any  influence,  they  seemed  only  to  heighten 
his  passion  for  amusement.  In  the  early  part  of  the  morning 
he  had  captured  a turkey,  which  hung  gracefully  from  his  holster 
on  one  side,  while  a small  goat-skin  of  Valencia  wine  balanced 
it  on  the  other.  These  good  things  were  destined  to  form  a 
feast  that  evening,  to  which  he  had  invited  four  others — that 
being,  according  to  his  most  liberal  calculation,  the  greatest 
number  to  whom  he  could  afford  a reasonable  supply  of  wine. 

When  the  halt  was  made,  it  took  some  time  to  arrange  the 
dispositions  for  the  night,  and  it  was  nearly  midnight  before  all 
the  regiment  had  got  their  billets  and  were  housed,  even  with 


io8 


HARR  Y L ORREQ UER. 


such  scanty  accommodation  as  the  place  afforded.  Tom  s guests 
had  not  yet  arrived,  and  he  himself  was  busily  engaged  in  roast- 
ing the  turkey  before  a large  fire,  on  which  stood  a capacious  ves- 
sel of  spiced  wine,  when  the  party  appeared.  A very  cursory 
“ reconnaissance  ” through  the  house — one  of  the  only  ones  un- 
touched in  the  village — showed  that  from  the  late  rain  it  would 
be  impossible  to  think  of  sleeping  in  the  lower  story,  which  al- 
ready showed  signs  of  being  flooded  ; they  therefore  proceeded 
in  a body  up  stairs,  and  what  was  their  delight  to  find  a most 
comfortable  room,  neatly  furnished  with  chairs  and  a table  ; but, 
above  all,  a large  old-fashioned  bed,  an  object  of  such  luxury  as 
only  an  old  campaigner  can  duly  appreciate.  The  curtains  were 
closely  tucked  in  all  round,  and,  in  their  fleeting  and  hurried 
glance,  they  felt  no  inclination  to  disturb  them,  and  rather  pro- 
ceeded to  draw  up  the  table  before  the  hearth,  to  which  they 
speedily  removed  the  fire  from  below,  and,  ere  many  minutes, 
with  that  activity  which  a bivouac  life  invariably  teaches,  their 
supper  smoked  before  them,  and  five  happier  fellows  did  not 
sit  down  that  night  within  a large  circuit  around.  Tom  was 
unusually  great ; stores  of  drollery,  unlocked  before,  poured 
from  him  unceasingly,  and,  what  with  his  high  spirits  to  excite 
them,  and  the  reaction  inevitable  after  a hard  day’s  severe 
march,  the  party  soon  lost  the  little  reason  that  usually  sufficed 
to  guide  them,  and  became  as  pleasantly  tipsy  as  can  well  be 
conceived.  However,  all  good  things  must  have  an  end,  and 
so  had  the  wine-skin.  Tom  had  placed  it  under  his  arm  like 
a bagpipe,  and  failed,  with  even  a most  energetic  squeeze,  to 
extract  a drop.  There  was  now  nothing  for  it  but  to  go  to  rest, 
and,  indeed,  it  seemed  the  most  prudent  thing  for  the  party. 

The  bed  became  accordingly  a subject  of  grave  deliberation  : 
for  as  it  could  only  hold  two,  and  the  party  were  five,  there 
seemed  some  difficulty  in  submitting  their  chances  to  lot,  which 
al?  agreed  was  the  fairest  way.  While  this  was  under  discus- 
sion, one  of  the  party  had  approached  the  contested  prize,  and, 
drawing  aside  the  curtains,  proceeded  to  jump  in,  when,  what 
was  his  astonishment  to  discover  that  it  was  already  occupied ! 
The  exclamation  of  surprise  he  gave  forth  soon  brought  the 
others  to  his  side,  and  to  their  horror,  drunk  as  they  were,  they 
found  that  the  body  before  them  was  that  of  a dead  man,  ar- 
rayed in  all  the  ghastly  pomp  of  a corpse.  A little  nearer  in- 
spection showed  that  he  had  been  a priest,  probably  the  padre 
of  the  village ; on  his  head  he  had  a small  velvet  skull-cap,  em- 
broidered with  a cross,  and  his  body  was  swathed  in  a vestment, 
such  as  priests  usually  wear  at  the  mass ; in  his  hand  he  held 
a large  wax  taper,  which  appeared  to  have  burnt  only  half  down, 


DUBLIN. 


109 


and  probably  been  extinguished  by  the  current  of  air  on  opening 
the  door.  After  the  first  brief  shock  which  this  sudden  appari- 
tion had  caused,  the  party  recovered  as  much  of  their  senses  as 
the  wine  had  left  them,  and  proceeded  to  discuss  what  was  to 
be  done  under  the  circumstances ; for  not  one  of  them  ever 
contemplated  giving  up  a bed  to  a dead  priest,  while  five  living 
men  slept  on  the  ground.  After  much  altercation,  O’Flaherty 
who  had  hitherto  listened  without  speaking,  interrupted  the 
contending  parties,  saying,  “ Stop,  lads,  I have  it.” 

“ Come,”  said  one  of  them,  “let  us  hear  Tom’s  proposal.” 

“ Oh,”  said  he,  with  difficulty  steadying  himself,  “ we’ll  put 
him  to  bed  with  old  Ridgeway,  the  quarter  master ! ” 

The  roar  of  loud  laughter  that  followed  Tom’s  device  was  re- 
newed again  and  again,  till  not  a man  could  speak  from  absolute 
fatigue.  There  was  not  a dissentient  voice.  Old  Ridgeway 
was  hated  in  the  corps,  and  a better  way  of  disposing  of  the 
priest,  and  paying  off  the  quartermaster,  could  not  be  thought  of. 

Very  little  time  sufficed  for  their  preparations ; and  if  they 
had  been  brought  up  under  a certain  well-known  duke,  they 
could  not  have  exhibited  a greater  taste  for  a “black  job.” 
The  door  of  the  room  was  quickly  taken  from  its  hinges,  and 
the  priest  placed  upon  it  at  full  length  ; a moment  more  sufficed 
to  lift  the  door  upon  their  shoulders,  and,  preceded  by  Tom,  who 
lit  a candle  in  honor  of  being,  as  he  said,  “ chief  mourner,”  they 
took  their  way  through  the  camp  towards  Ridgeway’s  quarters. 
When  they  reached  the  hut  where  their  victim  lay,  Tom  ordered 
a halt,  and  proceeded  stealthily  into  the  house  to  “ reconnaitre.” 
The  old  quartermaster  he  found  stretched  on  his  sheepskin  be- 
fore a large  fire,  the  remnants  of  an  ample  supper  strewed  about 
him,  and  two  empty  bottles  standing  on  the  hearth  : his  deep 
snoring  showed  that  all  was  safe,  and  that  no  fears  of  his  awak- 
ing need  disturb  them.  His  shako  and  sword  lay  near  him, 
but  his  sabretasche  was  under  his  head.  Tom  carefully  with- 
drew the  two  former,  and,  hastening  to  his  friends  without,  pro- 
ceeded to  decorate  the  priest  with  them,  expressing,  at  the  samej 
time,  considerable  regret  that  he  feared  it  might  wake  Ridge- 
way if  he  were  to  put  the  velvet  skull-cap  on  him  for  a night-cap. 

Noiselessly  and  stealthily  they  now  entered,  and  proceeded 
to  put  down  their  burden,  which,  after  a moment’s  discussion, 
they  agreed  to  place  between  the  quartermaster  and  the  fire,  of 
which  hitherto  he  had  reaped  ample  benefit.  This  done,  they 
quietly  retreated,  and  hurried  back  to  their  quarters,  unable  to 
speak  with  laughter  at  the  success  of  their  plot,  and  their  antici- 
pation of  Ridgeway’s  rage  on  awakening  in  the  morning. 

It  was  in  the  dim  twilight  of  a hazy  morning,  that  the  bugler 


no 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


of  the  8th  aroused  the  sleeping  soldiers  from  their  miserable 
couches,  which,  wretched  as  they  were,  they  nevertheless  rose 
from  reluctantly,  so  wearied  and  fatigued  had  they  been  by  the 
preceding  day's  march.  Not  one  among  the  number  felt  so  in- 
disposed to  stir  as  the  worthy  quartermaster ; his  peculiar  avo- 
cations had  demanded  a more  than  usual  exertion  on  his  part, 
and  in  the  posture  he  had  lain  down  at  night  he  rested  till  morn- 
ing, without  stirring  a limb.  Twice  the  reveille  had  rung 
through  the  little  encampment,  and  twice  the  quartermaster  had 
essayed  to  open  his  eyes,  but  in  vain  ; at  last  he  made  a tremen- 
dous effort,  and  sat  bolt  upright  on  the  floor,  hoping  that  the 
sudden  effort  might  sufficiently  arouse  him ; slowly  his  eyes 
opened,  and  the  first  thing  they  beheld  was  the  figure  of  the 
dead  priest,  with  a light  cavalry  helmet  on  his  head,  seated  be- 
fore him.  Ridgeway,  who  was  a good  Catholic,  trembled  in 
every  joint — it  might  be  a ghost,  it  might  be  a warning,  he 
knew  not  what  to  think ; he  imagined  the  lips  moved,  and  so 
overcome  with  terror  was  he  at  last,  that  he  absolutely  shouted 
like  a maniac,  and  never  ceased  till  the  hut  was  filled  with  offi- 
cers and  men,  who,  hearing  the  uproar,  ran  to  his  aid.  The 
surprise  of  the  poor  quartermaster  at  the  apparition  was  scarcely 
greater  than  that  of  the  beholders.  No  one  was  able  to  afford 
any  explanation  of  the  circumstance,  though  all  were  assured 
that  it  must  have  been  done  in  jest.  The  door  upon  which  the 
priest  had  been  conveyed  afforded  the  clue — they  had  forgotten 
to  restore  it  to  its  place.  Accordingly  the  different  billets  were 
examined,  and  at  last  O’Flaherty  was  discovered  in  a most  com- 
modious bed,  in  a large  room  without  a door,  still  fast  asleep, 
and  alone  : how  and  when  he  had  parted  from  his  companions 
he  never  could  precisely  explain,  though  he  has  since  confessed 
it  was  part  of  his  scheme  to  lead  them  astray  in  the  village,  and 
then  retire  to  the  bed,  which  he  had  determined  to  appropriate. 

Old  Ridgeway’s  rage  knew  no  bounds ; he  absolutely  foamed 
with  passion,  and  in  proportion  as  he  was  laughed  at  his  choler 
rose  higher.  Had  this  been  the  only  result,  it  had  been  well 
for  poor  Tom,  but  unfortunately  the  affair  got  to  be  rumored 
through  the  country — the  inhabitants  of  the  village  learned  the 
indignity  with  which  the  padre  had  been  treated  ; they  addressed 
a memorial  to  Lord  Wellington — inquiry  was  immediately  in- 
stituted— O’Flaherty  was  tried  by  court-martial,  and  found  guilty  ; 
nothing  short  of  the  heaviest  punishment  that  could  be  inflicted 
under  the  circumstances  would  satisfy  the  Spaniards,  and  at 
that  precise  period  it  was  part  of  our  policy  to  conciliate  their 
esteem  by  every  means  in  our  power.  The  commander-in-chief 
resolved  to  make  what  he  called  an  “ example,”  and  poor  O’Fla- 


DUBLIN, 


in 


herty — the  life  and  soul  of  his  regiment — the  darling  of  his  mesv, 
— was  broke,  and  pronounced  incapable  of  ever  serving  his  Maj- 
esty again.  Such  was  the  event  upon  which  my  poor  friend’s 
fortune  in  life  seemed  to  hinge.  He  returned  to  Ireland,  if  not 
entirely  broken-hearted,  so  altered  that  his  best  friends  scarcely 
knew  him — his  “ occupation  was  gone  ; ” the  mess  had  been  his 
home  ; his  brother  officers  were  to  him  in  place  of  relatives,  and 
he  had  lost  all.  His  after-life  was  spent  in  rambling  from  one 
watering-place  to  another,  more  with  the  air  of  one  who  seeks  to 
comsume  than  enjoy  his  time  ; and  with  such  a change  in  ap- 
pearence  as  the  alteration  in  his  fortune  had  effected,  he  now 
stood  before  me,  but  altogether  so  different  a man,  that  but  foi 
the  well-known  tones  of  a voice  that  had  often  convulsed  me 
with  laughter,  I should  scarcely  have  recognized  him. 

“Lorrequer,  my  old  friend,  I never  thought  of  seeing  you  here 
— this  is  indeed  a piece  of  good  luck.” 

“ Why,  Tom  ? You  surely  knew  that  the  4 — th  were  in  Ire- 
land, didn’t  you  ? ” 

“ To  be  sure.  I dined  with  them  only  a few  days  ago,  but 
they  told  me  you  were  off  to  Paris,  to  marry  something  superla- 
tively beautiful,  and  most  enormously  rich — the  daughter  of  a 
duke,  if  I remember  right ; but  certes,  they  said  your  fortune 
was  made,  and  I need  not  tell  you  there  was  not  a man  among 
them  better  pleased  than  I was  to  hear  it.” 

“ Oh  ! they  said  so,  did  they  ? Drolf  dogs — always  quizzing 
— I wonder  you  did  not  perceive  the  hoax — eh — very  good,  was 
it  not  ? ” This  I poured  out  in  short  broken  sentences,  blushing 
scarlet,  and  fidgeting  like  a schoolgirl  with  nervousness. 

“A  hoax!  Devilish  well  done,  too,”  said  Tom,  “ for  old 
Carden  believed  the  whole  story,  and  told  me  that  he  had  ob- 
tained a six  months’  leave  for  you  to  make  your  cour , and  said 
that  he  had  got  a letter  from  Lord — Confound  his  name  ! ” 

44  Lord  Grey,  is  it  ? ” said  I,  with  a sly  look  at  Tom. 

“ No,  my  dear  friend,”  said  he  drily,  44  it  was  not  Lord  Grey. 
But  to  continue  : he  had  got  a letter  from  him,  dated  from  Paris, 
stating  his  surprise  that  you  had  never  joined  them  there,  ac- 
cording to  promise,  and  that  they  knew  your  cousin  Guy,  and 
other  matters  I can’t  remember — so  what  does  all  this  mean  : 
Did  you  hoax  the  noble  lord  as  well  as  the  Horse  Guards,  Harry  ? ” 
This  was  indeed  a piece  of  news  for  me  ; I stammered  out 
some  ridiculous  explanation,  and  promised  a fuller  detail.  Could 
it  be  that  I had  done  the  Callonbys  injustice,  and  that  they  never 
intended  to  break  off  my  attentions  to  Lady  Jane — that  she  was 
still  faithful,  and  that  of  all  concerned  I alone  had  been  to  blame  ? 
Oh ! how  I hoped  this  might  be  the  case ; heavily  as  my  coi> 


I 12 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


science  might  accuse,  I longed  ardently  to  forgive  and  deal  men 
cifully  with  myself.  Tom  continued  to  talk  about  indifferent 
matters,  as  these  thoughts  flitted  through  my  mind ; perceiving 
at  last  that  I did  not  attend,  he  stopped  suddenly,  and  said, — 

“ Harry,  I see  clearly  that  something  has  gone  wrong,  and 
perhaps  I can  guess  at  the  mode,  too : but,  however,  you  can  do 
nothing  about  it  now  ; come  and  dine  with  me  to-day,  and  we’ll 
discuss  the  affair  together  after  dinner ; or,  if  you  prefer  a 4 dis- 
traction,’ as  we  used  to  say  in  Dunkerque,  why  then  I’ll  arrange 
something  fashionable  for  your  evening’s  amusement.  Come, 
what  say  you  to  hearing  Father  Keogh  preach  ? or  would  you 
like  a supper  at  the  Carlingford  ? or  perhaps  you  prefer  a soiree 
chez  Miladii — for  all  of  these  Dublin  affords — all  three  good  in 
their  way,  and  very  intellectual.” 

“ Well,.  Tom,  I’m  yours  ; but  I should  prefer  your  dining  with 

me  ; I am  at  Bilton’s  ; we’ll  have  our  cutlet  quite  alone,  and ” 

44  And  be  heartily  sick  of  each  other,  you  were  going  to  add. 
No,  no,  Harry,  you  must  dine  with  me  ; I have  some  remarkably 
nice  people  to  present  you  to — six  is  the  hour — sharp  six — num- 
ber — , Molesworth  Street,  Mrs.  Clanfrizzle’s, — easily  find  it— 
large  fanlight  over  the  door — huge  lamp  in  the  hall,  and  a strong 
odor  of  mutton  broth  for  thirty  yards  on  each  side  of  the  prem- 
ises— and,  as  good  luck  will  have  it,  I see  old  Daly,  the  court 
sellor,  as  they  call  him  • he’s  the  very  man  to  get  to  meet  you — 
you  always  liked  a character,  eh  ? ” 

Saying  this,  O’Flaherty  disengaged  himself  from  my  arm,  and 
hurried  across  the  street  towards  a portly,  middle-aged  looking 
gentleman,  with  the  reddest  face  I ever  beheld.  After  a brief 
but  very  animated  colloquy,  Tom  returned,  and  informed  me 
that  all  was  right;  he  had  secured  Daly. 

44  And  who  is  Daly  ? ” said  I,  inquiringly,  for  I was  rather  in- 
terested in  hearing  what  peculiar  qualification  as  a diner-out  the 
counsellor  might  lay  claim  to,  many  of  Tom’s  friends  being  as 
remarkable  for  being  the  quizzed  as  the  quizzers. 

44  Daly,”  said  he,  44  is  the  brother  of  a most  distinguished  mem- 
ber of  the  Irish  bar,  of  which  he  himself  is  also  a follower,  bear- 
ing, however,  no  other  resemblance  to  the  clever  man  than  the 
name,  for,  as  assuredly  as  the  reputation  of  the  one  is  inseparably 
linked  with  success,  so  unerringly  is  the  other’s  coupled  with 
failure  ; and,  strange  to  say,  the  stupid  man  is  fairly  convinced 
that  his  brother  owes  all  his  advancement  to  him,  and  that  to  his 
interested  kindness  the  other  is  indebted  for  his  present  exalted 
station.  Thus  it  is  through  life  ; there  seems  ever  to  accompany 
dulness  a sustaining  power  of  vanity,  that,  like  a life-buoy,  keeps 
a mass  afloat  whose  weight  unassisted  would  sink  into  obscurity. 


DUBLIN. 


XI3 

Do  you  know  that  my  friend  Denis,  there,  imagines  himself  the 
first  man  that  ever  enlightened  Sir  Robert  Peel  as  to  Irish  af- 
fairs ; and,  upon  my  word,  his  reputation  on  this  head  stands  in- 
contestably higher  than  on  most  others.” 

“ You  surely  cannot  mean  that  Sir  Robert  Peel  ever  consulted 
with,  much  less  relied  upon,  the  statements  of  such  a person  as 
you  describe  your  friend  Denis  to  be  ? ” 

“ He  did  both — and  if  he  was  a little  puzzled  by  the  informa- 
tion, the  only  disgrace  attaches  to  a government  that  sends  men 
to  rule  over  us  unacquainted  with  our  habits  of  thinking,  and 
utterly  ignorant  of  the  language — ay,  I repeat  it.  But  come, 
you  shall  judge  for  yourself;  the  story  is  a short  one,  and  fortu- 
nately so,  for  I must  hasten  home  to  give  timely  notice  of  your 
coming  to  dine  with  me.  When  Sir  Robert  Peel,  then  Mr.  Peel, 
came  over  here,  as  secretary  to  Ireland,  a very  distinguished 
political  leader  of  the  day  invited  a party  to  meet  him  at  dinner, 
consisting  of  men  of  different  political  learnings,  among  whom 
were,  as  may  be  supposed,  many  members  of  the  Irish  bar. 
The  elder  Daly  was  too  remarkable  a person  to  be  omitted,  but 
as  the  two  brothers  resided  together,  there  was  a difficulty  about 
getting  him  ; however  he  must  be  had,  and  the  only  alternative 
that  presented  itself  was  adopted — both  were  invited.  When 
the  party  descended  to  the  dining-room,  by  one  of  those  unfort- 
unate accidents  which,  as  the  proverb  informs  us,  occasionally 
take  place  in  the  best  regulated  establishments,  the  wrong  Mr. 
Daly  got  placed  beside  Mr.  Peel,  which  post  of  honor  had  been 
destined  by  the  host  for  the  more  agreeable  and  talented  brother. 
There  was  now  no  help  for  it ; and  with  a heart  somewhat  ner- 
vous for  the  consequences  of  the  proximity,  the  worthy  entertainer 
sat  down  to  do  the  honors  as  best  he  might ; he  was  consoled 
during  dinner  by  observing  that  the  devotion  bestowed  by  honest 
Denis  on  the  viands  before  him  effectually  absorbed  his  faculties, 
and  thereby  threw  the  entire  of  Mr.  Peel’s  conversation  towards 
the  gentleman  on  his  other  flank.  This  happiness  was,  like 
most  others,  destined  to  be  a brief  one.  As  the  dessert  made 
its  appearance,  Mr.  Peel  began  to  listen  with  some  attention  to 
the  conversation  of  the  persons  opposite,  with  one  of  whom  he 
was  struck  most  forcibly — so  happy  a power  of  illustration,  so 
vivid  a fancy,  such  logical  precision  in  argument  as  he  evinced, 
perfectly  charmed  and  surprised  him.  Anxious  to  learn  the 
name  of  so  gifted  an  individual,  he  turned  towards  his  hitherto 
silent  neighbor,  and  demanded  who  he  was. 

“ 4 Who  is  he,  is  it  ? ’ said  Denis,  hesitatingly,  as  if  he  half 
doubted  such  extent  of  ignorance  as  not  to  know  the  person  al- 
luded to. 

8 


114 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


44  Mr.  Peel  bowed  in  acquiescence. 

“ 4 That’s  Bushe  ! ’ said  Denis,  giving  at  the  same  time  tiw 
same  sound  to  the  vowel  u as  it  obtains  when  occurring  in  the 
word  4 rush.’ 

“ 4 1 beg  pardon,’  said  Mr.  Peel,  4 1 did  not  hear.’ 

44  4 Bushe  ! ’ replied  Denis,  with  considerable  energy  of  ton<> , 
44  4 Oh,  yes!  I know,’  said  the  secretary;  4 Mr.  Bushe,  a very 
distinguished  member  of  your  bar,  I have  heard.’ 

44  4 Faith,  you  may  say  that ! ’ said  Denis,  tossing  off  his  wine 
at  what  he  esteemed  a very  trite  observation. 

44  4 Pray,’  said  Mr.  Peel,  again  returning  to  the  charge,  though 
certainly  feeling  not  a little  surprised  at  the  singular  laconicism 
of  his  informant,  no  less  than  the  mellifluous  tones  of  an  accent 
then  perfectly  new  to  him, — 4 pray,  may  I ask,  what  is  the  pecul- 
iar character  of  Mr.  Bushe’s  eloquence — I mean,  of  course,  in 
his  professional  capacity  ? ’ 

44  4 Eh  ! ’ said  Denis,  4 1 don’t  comprehend  you  exactly.’ 

44  4 1 mean,’  said  Mr.  Peel,  4 in  one  word,  what’s  his  forte  ? ’ 

44  4 His  forte  ! ’ 

44  4 1 mean  what  his  peculiar  gift  consists  in ’ 

44  4 Oh,  I perceave — I have  ye  now — the  juries  ! ’ 

44  4 Ah  ! addressing  a jury.’ 

44  4 Ay,  the  juries.’ 

44  4 Can  you  oblige  me  by  giving  me  an  idea  of  the  manner  in 
which  he  obtains  such  signal  success  in  this  difficult  branch  of 
eloquence  ? ’ 

44  4 I’ll  tell  ye,’  said  Denis,  leisurely  finishing  his  glass,  and 
smacking  his  lips,  with  the  air  of  a man  girding  up  his  loins  for 
a mighty  effort — 4 Ell  tell  ye.  Well,  ye  see  the  way  he  has  is 
this,’ — here  Mr.  Peel’s  expectation  rose  to  the  highest  degree 
of  interest, — 4 the  way  he  has  is  this — he  first  butthers  them  up , 
and  then  slithers  them  down  ! — that's  all,  devil  a more  of  a secret 
there’s  in  it.’  ” 

How  much  reason  Denis  had  to  boast  of  imparting  early  in- 
formation to  the  new  secretary  I leave  my  English  readers  to 
guess ; my  Irish  ones  I may  trust  to  do  him  ample  justice. 

My  friend  now  left  me  to  my  own  devices  to  while  away  the 
hours  till  time  to  dress  for  dinner.  Heaven  help  the  gentleman 
so  left  in  Dublin,  say  I.  It  is  perhaps  the  only  city  of  its  size 
in  the  world  where  there  is  no  lounge — no  promenade.  Very 
little  experience  of  it  will  convince  you  that  it  abounds  in  pretty 
women,  and  has  its  fair  share  of  agreeable  men  : but  where  are 
they  in  the  morning?  I wish  Sir  Dick  Lauder,  instead  of  spec- 
ulating where  salmon  pass  the  Christmas  holidays,  would  apply 
his  most  inquiring  mind  to  such  a question  as  this  True  it  is, 


DUBLIN. 


XI5 

however,  they  are  not  to  be  found.  The  squares  are  deserted — 
the  streets  are  very  nearly  so — and  all  that  is  left  to  the  luckless 
wanderer  in  search  of  the  beautiful,  is  to  ogle  the  beauties  of 
Dame  Street,  who  are  shopkeepers  in  Grafton  Street,  or  the 
beauties  of  Grafton  Street,  who  are  shopkeepers  in  Dame  Street. 
But,  confound  it,  how  cranky  I am  getting — I must  be  tremen- 
dously hungry.  True,  it’s  past  six.  So  now  for  my  suit  of  sa- 
ble, and  then  to  dinner. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

DUBLIN — THE  BOARDING-HOUSE — SELECT  SOCIETY. 

Punctual  to  my  appointment  with  O’Flaherty,  I found  my- 
self, a very  few  minutes  after  six  o’clock,  at  Mrs.  Clanfrizzle’s 
door.  My  very  authoritative  summons  at  the  bell  was  an- 
swered by  the  appearance  of  a young,  pale-faced  invalid,  in  a 
suit  of  livery,  the  taste  of  which  bore  a very  unpleasant  resem- 
blance to  the  one  I so  lately  figured  in.  It  was  with  considera- 
ble difficulty  I persuaded  this  functionary  to  permit  my  carry- 
ing my  hat  with  me  to  the  drawing-room,  a species  of  caution  on 
my  part,  as  he  esteemed  it,  savoring  much  of  distrust.  This 
point,  however,  I carried,  and  followed  him  up  a very  ill-lighted 
stair  to  the  drawing-room.  Here  I was  announced  by  some 
faint  resemblance  to  real  name,  but  sufficiently  near  to  bring 
my  friend  Tom  at  once  to  meet  me,  who  immediately  congratu- 
lated me  on  my  fortune  in  coming  off  so  well,  for  that  the 
person  who  preceded  me,  Mr.  Jones  Blennerhasset,  had  been 
just  announced  as  Mr.  Blatherhashit — a change  the  gentle- 
man himself  was  not  disposed  to  adopt.  “ But  come  along, 
Harry ; while  we  are  waiting  for  Daly,  let  me  make  you 
known  to  some  of  our  party.  This,  you  must  know,  is  a 
boarding-house,  and  always  has  some  capital  fun — queer- 
est people  you  ever  met — I have  only  one  hint — cut  every 
man,  woman,  and  child  of  them,  if  you  meet  them  here- 
after ; I do  it  myself,  though  I have  lived  here  these  six  months.” 
Pleasant  people,  thought  I,  these  must  be,  with  whom  such  a 
line  is  advisable,  much  less  practicable. 

“ Mrs.  Clanfrizzle,  my  friend,  Mr.  Lorrequer  ; thinks  he’ll 
stay  the  summer  in  town.  Mrs.  Clan,  should  like  him  to  be  one 
of  us.”  The  latter  was  said  sotto  voce , and  was  a practice  he 
continued  to  adopt  in  presenting  me  to  his  several  friends  through 
the  room. 


1 16  HARR  Y LORREQUER. 

“ Miss  Riley/’  a horrid  old  fright,  in  a bird-of-paradise  plume 
and  corked  eyebrows,  gibbeted  in  gilt  chains  and  pearl  orna- 
ments, and  looking,  as  the  grisettes  say,  superbe  en  chrysolite , — 
“ Miss  Riley,  Captain  Lorrequer,  a friend  I have  long  desired 
to  present  to  you — fifteen  thousand  a year  and  a baronetcy, — if 
he  has  sixpence,” — sotto  again.  “ Surgeon  McCulloch — he  likes 
the  title,”  said  Tom,  in  a whisper — “ Surgeon,  Captain  Lorre- 
quer. By  the  bye,  lest  I forget  it,  he  wishes  to  speak  to  you  in 
the  morning  about  his  health  ; he  is  stopping  at  Sandymount 
for  the  baths ; you  could  go  out  there,  eh  ? ” The  tall  thing  in 
green  spectacles  bowed,  and  acknowledged  Tom’s  kindness  by 
a knowing  touch  of  the  elbow.  In  this  way  he  made  the  tour 
of  the  room  for  about  ten  minutes,  during  which  brief  space  I 
was,  according  to  the  kind  arrangements  of  O’Flaherty,  booked 
as  a resident  in  the  boarding-house — a lover  to  at  least  five  eld- 
erly, and  three  young  ladies — a patient — a client — a second  in 
a duel  to  a clerk  in  the  Post-office — and  had  also  volunteered 
(through  him  always)  to  convey,  by  all  of  his  Majesty’s  mails,  as 
many  parcels,  packets,  band-boxes,  and  bird-cages,  as  would 
have  comfortably  filled  one  of  Pickford’s  vans.  All  this  he  told 
me  was  requisite  to  my  being  well  received,  though  no  one 
thought  much  of  any  breach  of  compact  subsequently,  except 
Mrs.  Clan  herself.  The  ladies  had,  alas  ! been  often  treated 
vilely  before  ; the  doctor  had  never  had  a patient,  and  as  for 
the  belligerent  knight  of  the  dead  office,  he’d  rather  have  died 
than  fought  any  day. 

The  last  person  to  whom  my  friend  deemed  necessary  to  in- 
troduce me,  was  a Mr.  Garret  Cudmore,  from  the  Reeks  on 
Kerry,  lately  matriculated  to  all  the  honors  of  freshmanship  in 
the  Dublin  University.  This  latter  was  a low-sized,  dark- 
browed  man,  with  round  shoulders,  and  particularly  long  arms, 
the  disposal  of  which  seemed  sadly  to  distress  him.  He  pos- 
sessed the  most  perfect  brogue  I ever  listened  to  ; but  it  was  dif- 
ficult to  get  him  to  speak,  for,  on  coming  up  to  town  some  weeks 
before,  he  had  been  placed  by  some  intelligent  friend  at  Mrs. 
Clanfrizzle’s  establishment,  with  the  express  direction  to  mark 
and  thoroughly  digest  as  much  as  he  could  of  the  habits  and  cus- 
toms of  the  circle  about  him,  which  he  was  rightly  informed  was 
the  very  focus  of  good  breeding  and  haut  ton  ; but  on  no  ac- 
count, unless  driven  thereto  by  the  pressure  of  sickness,  or  the 
wants  of  nature,  to  trust  himself  with  speech,  which,  in  his  then 
uninformed  state,  he  was  assured  would  inevitably  ruin  him 
among  his  fastidiously  cultivated  associates. 

To  the  letter  and  the  spirit  of  the  despatch  he  had  received, 
the  worthy  Garret  acted  rigidly,  and  his  voice  was  scarcely  ever 


DUBLIN . 


1 17 

known  to  transgress  the  narrow  limits  prescribed  by  his  friends. 
In  more  respects  than  one  was  this  a good  resolve  ; for  so  com- 
pletely had  he  identified  himself  with  college  habits,  things,  and 
phrases,  that  whenever  he  conversed,  he  became  little  short  of 
unintelligible  to  the  vulgar — a difficulty  not  lessened  by  his  pe- 
culiar pronunciation. 

My  round  of  presentation  was  just  completed,  when  the  pale 
figure  in  light-blue  livery  announced  Counsellor  Daly  and  dinner, 
for  both  came  fortunately  together.  Taking  the  post  of  honor, 
Miss  Riley’s  arm,  I followed  Tom,  who  I soon  perceived  ruled 
the  whole  concern,  as  he  led  the  way  with  another  ancient  ves- 
tal in  black  satin  and  bugles.  The  long  procession  wound  its 
snake-like  length  down  the  narrow  stair,  and  into  the  dining- 
room, where  at  last  we  all  got  seated.  And  here  let  me  briefly 
vindicate  the  motives  of  my  friend.  Should  any  unkind  person 
be  found  to  impute  to  his  selection  of  a residence  any  base  and 
grovelling  passion  for  “ gourmandize,”  that  day’s  experience 
should  be  an  eternal  vindication  of  him.  The  soup — alas  ! that 
I should  so  far  prostitute  the  word,  for  the  black  broth  of  Sparta 
was  mock-turtle  in  comparison — retired  to  make  way  for  a mass 
of  beef,  whose  tenderness  I did  not  question  ; for  it  sank  beneath 
the  knife  of  the  carver  like  a feather  bed — the  skill  of  Saladin 
himself  would  have  failed  to  divide  it.  The  fish  was  a most 
rebellious  pike,  and  nearly  killed  every  loyal  subject  at  table ; 
and  then  down  the  sides  were  various  dishes  of  chickens  with 
azure  bosoms,  and  hams  with  hides  like  a rhinoceros ; covered 
“ decoys”  of  decomposed  vegetable  matter  called  spinach  and 
cabbage  ; potatoes  arrayed  in  small  masses,  and  browned,  resem- 
bling those  ingenious  architectural  structures  of  mud  children 
raise  in  the  highways  and  call  dirt-pies.  Such  were  the  chief 
constituents  of  the  “feed;”  and  such,  I am  bound  to  confess, 
waxed  beautifully  less  under  the  vigorous  onslaught  of  the  party. 

The  conversation  soon  became  both  loud  and  general.  That 
happy  familiarity — which  I had  long  believed  to  be  the  exclusive 
prerogative  of  a military  mess,  where  constant  daily  association 
sustains  the  interest  of  the  veriest  trifles — I here  found  in  a per- 
fection I had  not  anticipated,  with  this  striking  difference,  that 
there  was  no  absurd  deference  to  any  existing  code  of  etiquette 
in  the  conduct  of  the  party  generally,  each  person  quizzing  his 
neighbor  in  the  most  free-and-easy  style  imaginable,  and  all, 
evidently  from  long  habit  and  conventional  usage,  seeming  to 
enjoy  the  practice  exceedingly.  Thus,  droll  allusions,  good 
stories,  and  smart  repartees  fell  thick  as  hail,  and  twice  as  harm- 
less, which  anywhere  else  that  I had  ever  heard  of,  would  as- 
suredly have  called  for  more  explanations,  and  perhaps  gun- 


i 18 


HARRY  L ORREQUER. 


powder,  in  the  morning,  than  usually  are  deemed  agreeable, 
Here,  however,  they  knew  better ; and  though  the  lawyer  quizzed 
the  doctor  for  never  having  another  patient  than  the  house-dog, 
all  of  whose  arteries  he  had  tied  in  the  course  of  the  winter  for 
practice,  and  the  doctor  retorted  as  heavily  by  showing  that  the 
lawyer’s  practice  had  been  other  than  beneficial  to  those  for 
whom  he  was  concerned,  his  o?ie  client  being  found  guilty,  mainly 
through  his  ingenious  defence  of  him,  yet  they  never  showed  any, 
the  slightest  irritation  ; on  the  contrary,  such  little  playful  bad- 
inage ever  led  to  some  friendly  passages  of  taking  wine  together,, 
or  in  arrangements  for  a party  to  the  “ Dargle,”  or  “ Dunleary ; 'A 
and  thus  went  on  the  entire  party,  the  young  ladies  darting  an 
occasional  slight  at  their  elders,  who  certainly  returned  the  fire 
often  with  advantage ; all  uniting  now  and  then,  however,  in  one 
common  cause,  an  attack  of  the  whole  line  upon  Mrs.  Clanfrizzle 
herself,  for  the  beef,  or  the  mutton,  or  the  fish,  or  the  poultry — 
each  of  which  was  sure  to  find  some  sturdy  defamer,  ready  and 
willing  to  give  evidence  in  dispraise.  Yet  even  these — and  I 
thought  them  rather  dangerous  sallies — led  to  no  more  violent 
results  than  dignified  replies  from  the  worthy  hostess  upon  the 
goodness  of  her  fare,  and  the  evident  satisfaction  it  afforded 
while  being  eaten,  if  the  appetites  of  the  party  were  a test 
While  this  was  at  its  height,  Tom  stooped  behind  my  chair,  and 
whispered  gently, — 

“ This  is  good — isn’t  it,  eh  ? — life  in  a boarding-house — quite 
new  to  you,  but  they  are  civilized  now  compared  to  what  you  will 
find  them  in  the  drawing-room.  When  short  whist  for  fivepenny 
points  sets  in — then  Greek  meets  Greek,  and  we’ll  have  it.” 

During  all  this  melee  tournament,  I perceived  that  the  worthy 
jib,  as  he  would  be  called  in  the  parlance  of  Trinity,  Mr.  Cud- 
more,  remained  perfectly  silent  and  apparently  terrified.  The 
noise,  the  din  of  voices,  and  the  laughing,  so  completely  addled 
him,  that  he  was  like  one  in  a very  horrid  dream.  The  attention 
with  which  I had  observed  him  having  been  remarked  by  my 
friend  O’Flaherty,  he  informed  me  that  the  scholar,  as  he  was 
called  there,  was  then  under  a kind  of  cloud — an  adventure 
which  occurred  only  two  nights  before  being  too  fresh  in  his 
memory  to  permit  him  enjoying  himself  even  to  the  limited 
extent  it  had  been  his  wont  to  do.  As  illustrative,  not  only  of 
Mr.  Cudmore,  but  the  life  I have  been  speaking  of,  I may  as 
well  relate  it. 

Soon  after  Mr.  Cudmore’s  enlistment  under  the  banners  ©f 
the  Clanfrizzle,  he  had  sought  and  found  an  asylum  in  the  draw- 
ing-room of  the  establishment,  which  promised,  from  its  geograph- 
ical relations,  to  expose  him  less  to  the  molestations  of  conver- 


DUBLIN. 


ixq 

sation  than  most  other  parts  of  the  room.  This  was  a small  re- 
cess beside  the  fire-place,  not  uncommon  in  old-fashioned  houses, 
and  which,  from  its  incapacity  to  hold  more  than  one,  secured  to 
the  worthy  recluse  the  privacy  he  longed  for ; and  here,  among 
superannuated  hearth-brushes,  an  old  hand-screen,  an  asthmatic 
bellows,  and  a kettle-holder,  sat  the  timid  youth,  “ alone,  but  in 
a crowd.”  Not  all  the  seductions  of  loo,  limited  to  threepence, 
nor  even  that  most  appropriately  designated  game,  beggar-my- 
neighbor,  could  withdraw  him  from  his  blest  retreat.  Like  his 
countryman,  St.  Kevin — my  friend  Petrie  has  ascertained  that 
the  saint  was  a native  of  Tralee — he  fled  from  the  temptations 
of  the  world,  and  the  blandishments  of  the  fair  • but,  alas ! like 
the  saint  himself,  the 

poor  “jib”  little  knew 
All  that  wily  sex  can  do ; 

for  while  he  hugged  himself  in  the  security  of  his  fortress,  the 
web  of  his  destiny  was  weaving.  So  true  is  it,  as  he  himself 
used,  no  less  pathetically  than  poetically  to  express  it,  “ misfort- 
une will  find  you  out,  if  ye  were  hid  in  a tay-chest.” 

It  happened  that  in  Mrs.  Clanfrizzle’s  establishment,  the  en- 
fant bleu  already  mentioned  was  the  only  individual  of  his  sex 
regained ; and  without  for  a moment  disparaging  the  ability  or 
attentions  of  this  gifted  person,  yet  it  may  reasonably  be  credited 
that,  in  waiting  on  a party  of  twenty-five  or  thirty  persons  at 
dinner,  all  of  whom  he  had  admitted  as  porter  and  announced 
as  maitre  d’ hotel,  with  the  subsequent  detail  of  his  duties  in  the 
drawing-room,  Peter, — Blue  Peter,  his  boarding-house  sobriquet 
— not  enjoying  the  bird-like  privilege  of  “being  in  two  places 
at  once,’’  gave  one  rather  the  impression  of  a person  of  hasty 
and  fidgety  habits,  for  which  nervous  tendency  the  treatment  he 
underwent  was  certainly  injudicious,  it  being  the  invariable  cus- 
tom for  each  guest  to  put  his  services  in  requisition,  perfectly 
irrespective  of  all  other  claims  upon  him,  from  whatsoever 
quarter  coming ; and  then  at  the  precise  moment  that  the  luck- 
less valet  was  snuffing  the  candles,  he  was  abused  by  one  for 
not  bringing  coal ; by  another  for  having  carried  off  his  teacup, 
sent  on  an  expedition  for  sugar ; by  a third  for  having  left  the 
door  open,  which  he  had  never  been  near ; and  so  on  to  the  end 
of  the  chapter. 

It  chanced  that  a few  evenings  previous  to  my  appearance  at 
the  house,  this  indefatigable  Caleb  was  ministering  as  usual  to 
the  various  and  discrepant  wants  of  the  large  party  assembled 
in  the  drawing-room.  With  his  wonted  alacrity  he  had  with- 
drawn from  their  obscure  retreat  against  the  wall  sundry  little 


V JO 


HARRY  LORREQUER . 


tables,  destined  for  the  players  at  whist,  or  “ spoil  five  ” — the 
popular  game  of  the  establishment.  With  a dexterity  that  sa- 
vored much  of  a stage  education,  he  had  arranged  the  candles, 
the  cards,  the  counters ; he  had  poked  the  fire,  settled  the  stool 
for  Miss  Riley’s  august  feet,  and  was  busily  engaged  in  chang- 
ing five  shillings  into  small  silver  for  a desperate  victim  of  loo, 
when  Mrs.  Clanfrizzle’s  third,  and,  as  it  appeared,  last  time  of 
asking  for  the  kettle  smote  upon  his  ear.  His  loyalty  would 
have  induced  him  at  once  to  desert  everything  on  such  an  occa- 
sion ; but  the  other  party  engaged  held  him  fast,  saying, 

“ Never  mind  her,  Peter — you  have  sixpence  more  to  give 
me.” 

Poor  Peter  rummaged  one  pocket,  then  another — discovering 
at  last  threepence  in  copper,  and  some  farthings,  with  which  he 
seemed  endeavoring  to  make  a composition  with  his  creditor  for 
twelve  shillings  in  the  pound  ; when  Mrs.  Clan’s  patience  finally 
becoming  exhausted,  she  turned  towards  Mr.  Cudmore,  the  only 
unemployed  person  she  could  perceive,  and  with  her  blandest 
smile  said, — 

“ Mr.  Cudmore,  may  I take  the  liberty  of  requesting  you  would 
hand  me  the  kettle  beside  you  ? ” 

Now,  though  the  kettle  aforesaid  was,  as  the  hostess  very 
properly  observed,  beside  him,  yet  the  fact  that  in  complying 
with  the  demand  it  was  necessary  for  the  bashful  youth  to  leave 
the  recess  he  occupied,  and,  with  the  kettle,  proceed  to  walk 
half  across  the  room,  there  to  perform  certain  manual  operations 
requiring  skill  and  presence  of  mind  before  a large  and  crowded 
assembly,  was  horror  to  the  mind  of  poor  Jib,  and  he  would 
nearly  as  soon  have  acceded  to  a desire  to  dance  a hornpipe,  if 
such  had  been  suggested  as  the  wish  of  the  company.  However, 
there  was  nothing  for  it,  and  summoning  up  all  his  nerve,  knit- 
ting his  brow,  clenching  his  teeth,  like  one  prepared  to  “ do  or 
die,”  he  seized  the  hissing  cauldron  and  strode  through  the  room 
like  the  personified  genius  of  steam,  very  much  to  the  alarm  of 
all  the  old  ladies  in  the  vicinity,  whose  tasteful  drapery  benefited 
but  little  from  his  progress.  Yet  he  felt  but  little  of  all  this  : 
he  had  brought  up  his  courage  to  the  sticking  place,  and  he  was 
absolutely  half  unconscious  of  the  whole  scene  before  him  ; nor 
was  it  till  some  kind  mediator  had  seized  his  arm,  while  another 
drew  him  back  by  the  skirts  of  the  coat,  that  he  desisted  from 
the  deluge  of  hot  water  with  which,  having  filled  the  tea-pot,  he 
proceeded  to  swamp  everything  else  upon  the  tray,  in  his  un- 
fortunate abstraction.  Mrs.  Clanfrizzle  screamed — the  old  ladies 
accompanied  her — the  young  ones  tittered — the  men  laughed — 
and,  in  a word,  poor  Cudmore,  perfectly  unconscious  of  anything 


DUBLIN. 


1 21 


extraordinary,  felt  himself  the  admired  of  all  admirers — very 
little,  it  is  true,  to  his  own  satisfaction.  After  some  few  min- 
utes’ exposure  to  these  signs  of  mirth,  he  succeeded  in  deposit- 
ing the  source  of  his  griefs  within  the  fender,  and  once  more 
retired  to  his  sanctuary,  having  registered  a vow,  which,  should 
I speak  it,  would  forfeit  his  every  claim  to  gallantry  forever. 

Whether,  in  the  vow  aforesaid,  Mr.  Cudmore  had  only  been 
engaged  in  that  species  of  tesselation  which  furnishes  the  pave- 
ment so  celebrated  in  the  lower  regions,  I know  not ; but  true  it 
is,  that  he  retired  that  night  to  his  chamber  very  much  discom- 
fited at  his  debut  in  the  great  world,  and  half  disposed  to  believe 
that  nature  had  neither  intended  him  for  a Brummell  nor  a D’Or- 
say.  While  he  was  ruminating  on  such  matters,  he  was  joined 
by  O’Flaherty,  with  whom  he  had  been  always  more  intimate 
than  any  other  inmate  of  the  house,  Tom’s  tact  having  entirely 
concealed  what  the  manners  of  the  others  too  plainly  evinced — 
a perfect  appreciation  of  the  student’s  oddity  and  singularity. 
After  some  few  observations  on  general  matters,  O’Flaherty  be- 
gan with  a tone  of  some  seriousness  to  express  towards  Cudmore 
the  warm  interest  he  had  ever  taken  in  him,  since  his  first  com 
ing  among  them  ; his  great  anxiety  for  his  welfare,  and  his  firm  re 
solve  that  no  chance  or  casual  inattention  to  mere  ceremonial 
observances  on  his  part  should  ever  be  seized  on  by  the  other 
guests  as  a ground  for  detraction  or  an  excuse  for  ridicule  o* 
him. 

“ Rely  upon  it,  my  dear  boy/’  said  he,  “ I have  watched  over 
you  like  a parent ; and  having  partly  foreseen  that  something 

like  this  affair  of  to-night  would  take  place  sooner  or  later ’ ' 

“What  affair?”  said  Cudmore,  his  eyes  staring  half  out  of 
his  head. 

“ The  business  of  the  kettle.” 

“ Kett — el.  The  kettle  ! What  of  that  ? ” said  Cudmore. 

“ What  of  it  ? Why,  if  you  don’t  feel  it,  I am  sure  it  is  not  my 

duty  to  remind  you  ; only ” 

“ Feel  it — O yes.  I saw  them  latlghing  because  I spilled  the 
water  over  old  Mrs.  Jones,  or  something  of  that  sort.” 

“ No,  no,  my  dear  young  friend,  they  were  not  laughing  at 
that — their  mirth  had  another  object.” 

“ What  the  devil  was  it  at,  then  ? ” 

“ You  don’t  know,  don’t  you  ? ” 

“ No  ; I really  do  not.” 

“ Nor  can’t  guess — eb.  ? ” 

“Confound  me  if  I can.” 

“Well.  I see,  Mr.  Cudmore,  you  are  really  too  innocenc  for 
these  people.  But  come — it  shall  never  be  said  that  youth  and 


*22 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


inexperience  ever  suffered  from  the  unworthy  ridicule  and  cold 
sarcasm  of  the  base  world,  while  Tom  O’Flaherty  stood  by  a 
spectator.  Sir,”  said  Tom,  striking  his  hand  with  energy  on  the 
table,  and  darting  a look  of  fiery  indignation  from  his  eye, — 
“ sir,  you  were  this  night  trepanned — yes,  sir,  vilely,  shamefully 
trepanned — I repeat  the  expression — into  the  performance  of  a 
menial  office — an  office  so  degrading,  so  offensive,  so  unbecom- 
ing the  rank,  the  station,  and  the  habits  of  gentlemen,  my  very 
blood  recoils  when  I only  think  of  the  indignity.” 

The  expression  of  increasing  wonder  and  surprise  depicted  in 
Mr.  Cudmore’s  face  at  these  words,  my  friend  Phiz  might  con- 
vey— I cannot  venture  to  describe  it ; suffice  it  to  say,  that  even 
O’Flaherty  himself  found  it  difficult  to  avoid  a burst  of  laughter 
as  he  looked  at  him,  and  resumed  : — 

“ Witnessing,  as  I did,  the  entire  occurrence;  feeling  deeply 
for  the  inexperience  which  the  heartless  worldlings  had  dared 
to  trample  upon,  I resolved  to  stand  by  you,  and  here  I am  come 
for  that  purpose.” 

“ Well,  but  what  in  the  devil’s  name  have  I done  all  this 
time  ? ” 

“ What ! are  you  still  ignorant  ? — is  it  possible  ? Did  you  not 
hand  the  kettle  from  the  fireplace,  and  fill  the  teapot — answer 
me  that.” 

“ I did,”  said  Cudmore,  with  a voice  already  becoming  trem- 
ulous. 

“ Is  that  the  duty  of  a gentleman  ? answer  me  that.” 

A dead  pause  stood  in  place  of  a reply,  while  Tom  pro- 
ceeded,— 

“ Did  you  ever  hear  any  one  ask  me,  or  Counsellor  Daly,  or  Mr. 
Fogarty,  or  any  other  person  to  do  so  ? — answer  me  that.” 

“ No,  never,”  muttered  Cudmore,  with  a sinking  spirit. 

“Well,  then,  why,  may  I ask,  were  you  selected  for  that  office, 
that,  by  your  own  confession,  no  one  else  would  stoop  to  per- 
form ? I’ll  tell  you,  because  from  your  youth  and  inexperience 
your  innocence  was  deemed  a fit  victim  to  the  heartless  sneers 
of  a cold  unfeeling  world.”  And  here  Tom  broke  forth  into  a 
very  beautiful  apostrophe,  beginning  “ Oh  virtue  ! ” — this  I am 
unfortunately  unable  to  present  to  my  readers,  and  must  only 
assure  them  that  it  was  a very  faithful  imitation  of  the  well- 
known  one  delivered  by  Burke  in  the  case  of  Warren  Hastings, 
— and  concluding  with  an  exhortation  to  Cudmore  to  wipe  out 
the  stain  of  his  wounded  honor,  by  repelling  with  indignation  the 
slightest  future  attempt  at  such  an  insult. 

This  done  O’Flaherty  retired,  leaving  Cudmore  to  dig  among 
Greek  roots,  and  chew  over  the  cud  of  his  misfortune.  Punct- 


DUBLIN. 


«** 

ual  to  the  time  and  place,  that  same  evening  beheld  the  injured 
Cudmore  resume  his  wonted  corner,  pretty  much  with  the  feel- 
ing with  which  a forlorn  hope  stands,  match  in  hand,  to  ignite 
the  train  destined  to  explode  with  ruin  to  thousands — him- 
self, perhaps,  among  the  number.  There  he  sat,  with  a brain  as 
burning  and  a heart  as  excited  as  though,  instead  of  sipping  his 
bohea  beside  a sea-coal  fire,  he  was  that  instant  trembling  be- 
neath the  frown  of  Dr.  Elrington  for  the  blunders  in  his  Latin 
theme, — and  what  terror  to  the  mind  of  a “ Jib  ” can  equal  that 
one  ? 

As  luck  would  have  it,  this  was  a company  night  in  the  board- 
ing-house. Various  young  ladies  in  long  blue  sashes,  and  very 
broad  ribbon  sandals,  paraded  the  rooms,  chatting  gayly  with 
very  distinguished-lookingyounggentlemen,  with  gold  brooches 
and  party-colored  inside  waistcoats ; sundry  elderly  ladies  sat 
at  card-tables,  discussing  the  “ lost  honor  by  an  odd  trick  they 
played,”  with  heads  as  large  as  those  of  Jack  or  Jill  in  the 
pantomime ; spruce  clerks  in  public  offices  (whose  vocation  the 
expansive  tendency  of  the  right  ear,  from  long  pen-carrying,  be- 
tokened) discussed  fashion  “ and  the  musical  glasses  ” to  some 
very  over-dressed  married  ladies,  who  preferred  flirting  to  five- 
and-ten.  The  tea-table,  over  which  the  amiable  hostess  presided, 
had  also  its  standing  votaries : mostly  grave  parliamentary-look- 
ing gentlemen,  with  powdered  heads  and  very  long-waisted 
black  coats,  among  whom  the  Sir  Oracle  was  a functionary  of 
his  Majesty's  High  Court  of  Chancery,  though,  I have  reason  to 
believe,  not  Lord  Manners  : meanwhile,  in  all  parts  of  the  room 
might  be  seen  Blue  Peter,  distributing  tea,  coffee,  and  biscuit, 
and  occasionally  interchanging  a joke  with  the  dwellers  in  the 
house.  While  all  these  pleasing  occupations  proceeded  the 
hour  of  Cudmore’s  trial  was  approaching.  The  teapot,  which 
had  stood  the  attack  of  fourteen  cups  without  flinching,  at  last 
began  to  fail,  and  discovered  to  the  prying  eyes  of  Mrs.  Clan- 
frizzle  nothing  but  an  olive-colored  deposit  of  soft  matter, 
closely  analogous  in  appearance  and  chemical  property  to  the 
residuary  precipitate  in  a drained  fish-pond  ; she  put  down  the 
lid  with  a gentle  sigh,  and  turning  towards  the  fire,  bestowed  one 
of  her  very  blandest  and  most  captivating  looks  on  Mr.  Cud- 
more,  saying — as  plainly  as  looks  could  say — :i  Cudmore,  you’re 
wanting.”  Whether  the  youth  did,  or  did  not  understand,  I am 
unable  to  record  ; I can  only  say,  the  appeal  was  made  without 
acknowledgment.  Mrs.  Clanfrizzle  again  essayed,  and  by  a 
little  masonic  movement  of  her  hand  to  the  teapot,  and-  a sly 
glance  at  the  hob,  intimated  her  wish — still  hopelessly ; at  last 
there  was  nothing  for  it  but  speaking,  and  she  donned  her  very 


124 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


softest  voice  and  most  persuasive  tone,  saying,  “ Mr.  Cudmore, 
I am  really  very  troublesome  ; will  you  permit  me  to  ask  you ” 

“ Is  it  for  the  kettle,  ma’am  ? ” said  Cudmore,  with  a voice 
that  startled  the  whole  room,  disconcerting  three  whist  parties, 
and  so  absorbing  the  attention  of  the  people  at  loo  that  the  pool 
disappeared  without  any  one  being  able  to  account  for  the  cir- 
cumstance— “ is  it  for  the  kettle,  ma’am  ? ” 

“ If  you  will  be  so  very  kind,”  lisped  the  hostess. 

“Well,  then,  upon  my  conscience,  you  are  impudent,”  said 
Cudmore,  with  his  face  crimson  to  the  ears,  and  his  eyes  flash- 
ing fire. 

“Why,  Mr.  Cudmore,”  began  the  lady — “why,  really,  this  is 
so  strange  ! Why,  sir,  what  can  you  mean  ? ” 

“ Just  that”  said  the  imperturbable  Jib,  who,  now  his  courage 
was  up,  dared  everything. 

“ But,  sir,  you  must  surely  have  misunderstood  me.  I only 
asked  for  the  kettle,  Mr.  Cudmore.” 

“ The  devil  a more,”  said  Cud,  with  a sneer. 

“ Well,  then,  of  course — ” 

“Well,  then,  I’ll  tell  you,  of  coorse,”  said  he,  repeating  her 
words  ; “ the  sorrow  taste  of  the  kettle  I’ll  give  you.  Call  your 
own  skip — Blue  Pether  there — damn  me  if  I’ll  be  your  skip  any 
longer ! ” 

For  the  uninitiated,  I have  only  to  add,  that  “ skip  ” is  the 
Trinity  College  appellation  for  servant,  which  was  therefore 
employed  by  Mr.  Cudmore  on  this  occasion  as  expressing  more 
contemptuously  his  sense  of  the  degradation  of  the  office  attempt- 
ed to  be  put  upon  him.  Having  already  informed  my  reader  on 
some  particulars  of  the  company,  I leave  him  to  suppose  how 
Mr.  Cudmore’s  speech  was  received.  Whist  itself  was  at  an  end 
for  that  evening,  and  nothing  but  laughter,  long,  loud,  and 
reiterated,  burst  from  every  corner  of  the  room  for  hours  after. 

As  I have  so  far  travelled  out  of  the  record  of  my  own 
peculiar  “ Confessions  ” as  to  give  a leaf  from  what  might  one 
day  form  the  matter  of  Mr.  Cudmore’s,  I must  now  make  the 
only  amende  in  my  power,  by  honestly  narrating,  that  short,  as 
my  visit  was  to  the  classic  precincts  of  this  agreeable  establish- 
ment, I did  not  escape  without  exciting  my  share  of  ridicule, 
though  I certainly  had  not  the  worst  of  the  joke,  and  may, 
therefore,  with  better  grace  tell  the  story,  which,  happily  for  my 
readers,  is  a short  one.  A custom  prevailed  in  Mrs.  Clanfrizzle’s 
household,  which,  from  my  unhappy  ignorance  of  boarding- 
houses, I am  unable  to  predicate  if  it  belong  to  the  genera  at 
large  or  this  one  specimen  in  particular ; however,  it  is  a suf- 
ficiently curious  fact,  even  though  thereby  hang  no  tale  for  my 


DUBLIN. 


125 


stating  it  here.  The  decanters  on  the  dinner-table  were  never 
labelled  with  their  more  appropriate  designation  of  contents, 
whether  claret,  sherry,  or  port,  but  with  the  names  of  their 
respective  owners,  it  being  a matter  of  much  less  consequence 
that  any  individual  at  table  should  mix  his  wine  by  pouring 
“ port  upon  madeira,”  than  commit  the  truly  legal  offence  of 
appropriating  to  his  own  use  and  benefit,  even  by  mistake,  his 
neighbor’s  bottle.  However  well  the  system  may  work  among 
the  regular  members  of  the  “ domestic  circle  ” — and  I am  as- 
sured that  it  does  succeed  extremely — to  the  newly-arrived 
guest,  or  uninitiated  visitor,  the  affair  is  perplexing,  and  leads 
occasionally  to  awkward  results. 

It  so  chanced,  from  my  friend  O’Flaherty’s  habitual  position 
at  the  foot  of  the  table,  and  my  post  of  honor  near  the  head, 
that  on  the  first  day  of  my  appearing  there,  the  distance  be- 
tween us  not  only  precluded  close  intercourse,  but  any  of  those 
gentle  hints  as  to  habits  and  customs  a new  arrival  looks  for  at 
the  hands  of  his  better  informed  friend.  The  only  mode  of 
recognition,  to  prove  that  we  belonged  to  each  other,  being  by 
that  excellent  and  truly  English  custom  of  drinking  wine  to- 
gether, Tom  seized  the  first  idle  moment  from  his  avocation  as 
carver  to  say, — 

“ Lorrequer,  a glass  of  wine  with  you.” 

Having,  of  course,  acceded,  he  again  asked, — 

“What  wine  do  you  drink?”  intending  thereby,  as  I after- 
wards learned,  to  send  me  from  his  end  of  the  table  what  wine 
I selected.  Not  conceiving  the  object  of  the  inquiry,  and  hav- 
ing hitherto,  without  hesitation,  helped  myself  from  the  decanter 
which  bore  some  faint  resemblance  to  sherry,  I immediately 
turned  for  correct  information  to  the  bottle  itself,  upon  whose 
slender  neck  was  ticketed  the  usual  slip  of  paper.  My  endeav- 
ors to  decipher  the  writing  occupied  time  sufficient  again  to 
make  O’Flaherty  ask, — 

“ Well,  Harry,  I’m  waiting  for  you.  Will  you  have  claret  ? ” 

“ No,  I thank  you,”  I replied,  having  by  this  revealed  the  in- 
scription,— “ no,  I thank  you  ; I’ll  just  stick  to  my  old  friend 
here,  Bob  M‘Grotty ; ” for  thus  I rendered  familiarly  the  name 
of  Rt.  M‘Grotty  on  the  decanter,  and  which  I,  in  my  ignorance, 
believed  to  be  the  boarding-house  sobriquet  for  bad  sherry. 
That  Mr.  M’Grotty  himself  little  relished  my  familiarity  with 
either  his  name  or  property  I had  a very  decisive  proof,  for, 
turning  round  upon  his  chair,  and  surveying  my  person  from 
head  to  foot,  with  a look  of  fiery  wrath,  he  thundered  out  in 
very  broad  Scotch, — 

“ And  by  my  saul,  my  freend,  ye  may  just  as  weel  finish  it 


126 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


noo,  for  deil  a glass  o’  his  ain  wine  did  Bob  M‘Grotty,  as  ye  ca* 
him,  swallow  this  day.” 

The  convulsion  of  laughter  into  which  my  blunder  and  the 
Scotchman’s  passion  threw  the  whole  board,  lasted  till  the 
cloth  was  withdrawn,  and  the  ladies  had  retired  to  the  drawing- 
room, the  only  individual  at  table  not  relishing  the  mistake 
being  the  injured  proprietor  of  the  bottle,  who  was  too  proud  to 
accept  reparation  from  my  friend’s  decanter,  and  would  scarcely 
condescend  to  open  his  lips  during  the  evening ; notwithstand- 
ing which  display  of  honest  indignation,  we  contrived  to  become 
exceedingly  merry  and  jocose,  most  of  the  party  communica- 
ting little  episodes  of  their  life,  in  which,  it  is  true,  they  fre- 
quently figured  in  situations  that  nothing  but  their  native  and 
natural  candor  would  venture  to  avow.  One  story  I was  con  - 
siderably amused  at ; it  was  told  by  the  counsellor,  Mr.  Daly, 
in  illustration  of  the  difficulty  of  rising  at  the  bar,  and  which, 
as  showing  his  own  mode  of  obviating  the  delay  that  young 
professional  men  submit  to  from  hard  necessity,  as  well  as  in 
evidence  of  his  strictly  legal  turn,  I shall  certainly  recount  one 
of  these  days  for  the  edification  of  the  junior  bar. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  CHASE. 

On  the  morning  after  my  visit  to  the  boarding-house,  I re- 
ceived a few  hurried  lines  from  Curzon,  informing  me  that  no 
time  was  to  be  lost  in  joining  the  regiment ; that  a grand  fancy 
ball  wras  about  to  be  given  by  the  officers  of  the  Dwarf  frigate, 
then  stationed  off  Dunmore ; who,  when  inviting  the  4 — th, 
specially  put  in  a demand  for  my  well-known  services,  to  make 
it  go  off,  and  concluding  with  an  extract  from  the  Kilkenny 
Moderator , which  ran  thus  : “ An  intimation  has  just  reached 
us,  from  a quarter  on  which  we  can  place  the  fullest  reliance, 
that  the  celebrated  amateur  performer,  Mr.  Lorrequer,  may 
shortly  be  expected  among  us.  From  the  many  accounts  we 
have  received  of  this  highly-gifted  gentleman’s  powers,  we 
anticipate  a great  treat  to  the  lovers  of  the  drama,”  etc.,  etc. 
“ So  you  see,  my  dear  Hal,”  continued  Curzon,  “ thy  vocation 
calls  thee  ; therefore  come,  and  come  quickly ; provide  thyself 
with  a black  satin  costume,  slashed  with  light  blue,  point-lace 
collar  and  ruffles,  a Spanish  hat  looped  in  front,  and,  if  possi- 


THE  C II ASA. 


12  7 


ble,  a long  rapier  with  a flat  hilt.  Carden  is  not  here  ; so  you 
may  show  your  face  under  any  color  with  perfect  impunity. 
Yours  from  the  side  scenes, 

“ C.  Curzon.” 

This  clever  epistle  sufficed  to  show  that  the  gallant  4 — th 
had  gone  clean  theatrical  mad ; and  although  from  my  “ last 
appearance  on  any  stage,”  it  might  be  supposed  I should  feel 
no  peculiar  desire  to  repeat  the  experiment,  yet  the  opportunity 
of  joining  during  Colonel  Carden’s  absence  was  too  tempting 
to  resist  and  I at  once  made  up  my  mind  to  set  out,  and  with- 
out a moment’s  delay,  hurried  across  the  street  to  the  coach- 
office  to  book  myself  an  inside  in  the  mail  of  that  night.  For- 
tunately, no  difficulty  existed  in  my  procuring  the  seat,  for  the 
way-bill  was  a perfect  blank,  and  I found  myself  the  only  per- 
son who  had  as  yet  announced  himself  a passenger.  On  re- 
turning to  my  hotel  I found  O’Flaherty  waiting  for  me.  He 
was  greatly  distressed  on  hearing  my  determination  to  leave 
town — explained  how  he  had  been  catering  for  my  amuse- 
ment for  the  week  to  come — that  a pic-nic  to  the  Dargle  was 
arranged  in  a committee  of  the  whole  house,  and  a boating 
party,  with  a dinner  at  the  Pigeon  House,  was  then  under 
consideration.  Resisting,  however,  such  extreme  temptations, 
I mentioned  the  necessity  of  my  at  once  proceeding  to  head- 
quarters, and  all  other  reasons  for  my  precipitancy  failing, 
concluded  with  that  really  knock-down  argument,  “ I have  taken 
my  place.”  This,  I need  scarcely  add,  finished  the  matter ; at 
least  I have  never  known  it  fail  in  such  cases.  Tell  your 
friends  that  your  wife  is  hourly  expecting  to  be  confined ; your 
favorite  child  is  in  the  measles ; your  best  friend  waiting  your 
aid  in  an  awkward  scrape  ; your  one  vote  only  wanting  to  turn 
the  scale  in  an  election ; — tell  them,  I say,  each  or  all  of  these, 
or  a hundred  more  like  them,  and  to  any  one  you  so  speak, 
the  answer  is,  “ Pooh,  pooh,  my  dear  fellow,  never  fear — don’t 
fuss  yourself— take  it  easy — to-morrow  will  do  just  as  well.” 
If  on  the  other  hand,  however,  you  reject  such  flimsy  excuses, 
and  simply  say,  “ I’m  booked  in  the  mail,”  the  opposition  at 
once  falls  to  the  ground,  and  your  quondam  antagonist,  who 
was  ready  to  quarrel  with  you,  is  at  once  prepared  to  assist  in 
packing  your  portmanteau. 

Having  soon  satisfied  my  friend  Tom  that  resistance  was  in 
vain,  I promised  to  eat  an  early  dinner  with  him  at  Morrison’s, 
and  spent  the  better  part  of  the  morning  in  putting  down  a few 
notes  of  my  “ Confessions  ” as  well  as  the  particulars  of  Mr. 
Daly’s  story,  which,  I believe,  I half  or  wholly  promised  my 


128 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


readers  at  the  conclusion  of  my  last  chapter ; but  which  I must 
defer  to  a more  suitable  opportunity,  when  mentioning  the  next 
occasion  of  my  meeting  him  on  the  southern  circuit. 

My  dispositions  were  speedily  made.  I was  fortunate  in  se- 
curing the  exact  dress  my  friend’s  letter  alluded  to  among  the 
stray  costumes  of  Fishamble  Street ; and,  rich  in  the  possession 
of  the  only  “ properties  ” it  had  been  my  lot  to  acquire,  I de 
spatched  my  treasure  to  the  coach-office,  and  hastened  to  Mor- 
risson’s,  it  being  by  this  time  nearly  five  o’clock.  There,  true  to 
time,  I found  O’Flaherty  deep  in  the  perusal  of  the  bill,  along 
which  figured  the  novel  expedients  for  dining  I had  been  in  the 
habit  of  reading  in  every  Dublin  hotel  since  my  boyhood. 
“ Mock-turtle,  mutton,  gravy,  roast  beef  and  potatoes — shoulder 
of  mutton  and  potatoes  ! — ducks  and  peas,  potatoes  ! ! — ham 
and  chicken,  cutlet,  steak,  and  potatoes  ! ! ! — apple  tart  and 
cheese  with  a slight  cadenza  of  a sigh  over  the  distant  glories 
of  Ve'ry,  or  still  better  the  “ Freres,”  we  sat  down  to  a very  pa- 
triarchal repast  and  what  may  be  always  had  par  excellence  in 
Dublin,  a bottle  of  Sneyd’s  claret. 

Poor  Tom’s  spirits  were  rather  below  their  usual  pitch ; and 
although  he  made  many  efforts  to  rally  and  appear  gay,  he 
could  not  accomplish  it.  However,  we  chatted  away  over  old 
times  and  old  friends,  and  forgetting  all  else  but  the  topics  we 
talked  of,  the  timepiece  over  the  chimney  first  apprised  me  that 
two  whole  hours  had  gone  by,  and  that  it  was  now  seven  o’clock, 
the  very  hour  the  coach  was  to  start.  I started  up  at  once,  and, 
notwithstanding  all  Tom’s  representations  of  the  impossibility 
of  my  being  in  time,  had  despatched  waiters  in  different  direc- 
tions for  a jarvey,  more  than  ever  determined  upon  going;  so 
often  is  it  that  when  real  reasons  for  our  conduct  are  wanting, 
any  casual  or  chance  opposition  confirms  us  in  an  intention 
which  before  was  but  wavering.  Seeing  me  so  resolved,  Tom 
at  length  gave  way  and  advised  my  pursuing  the  mail,  which 
must  now  be  gone  at  least  ten  minutes,  and  which,  with  smart 
driving,  I should  probably  overtake  before  getting  free  of  the 
city,  as  they  have  usually  many  delays  in  so  doing.  I at  'once 
ordered  out  the  “ yellow  post-chaise,”  and  before  many  minutes 
had  elapsed,  what  with  imprecation  and  bribery,  I started  in  pur- 
suit of  his  Majesty’s  Cork  and  Kilkenny  mail  coach,  then  pa- 
tiently waiting  in  the  court-yard  of  the  Post-office. 

“ Which  way  now,  your  honor  ? ” said  a shrill  voice  from  the 
dark — for  such  the  night  had  already  become,  and  threatened 
with  a few  heavy  drops  of  straight  rain,  the  fall  of  a tremendous 
shower. 

“The  Naas  road,”  said  I;  “and,  harkye,  my  fine  fellow,  if 


THE  CHASE. 


129 


you  overtake  the  coach  in  half  an  hour,  I’ll  double  your 
fare.” 

“ Be  gorra,  I’ll  do  my  endayvor,”  said  the  youth ; at  the  same 
instant  dashing  in  both  spurs,  we  rattled  down  Nassau  Street  at 
a very  respectable  pace  for  harriers.  Street  after  street  we 
passed,  and  at  last  I perceived  we  had  got  clear  of  the  city,  and 
were  leaving  the  long  line  of  lamp-lights  behind  us.  The  night 
was  now  pitch  dark.  I could  not  see  anything  whatever.  The 
quick  clattering  of  the  wheels,  the  sharp  crack  of  the  postilion’s 
whip,  or  the  still  sharper  tone  of  his  “ gee  hup,”  showed  me 
that  we  were  going  at  a tremendous  pace,  had  I not  even  had 
the  experience  afforded  by  the  frequent  visits  my  head  paid  to 
the  roof  of  the  chaise,  so  often  as  we  bounded  over  a stone,  or 
splashed  through  a hollow.  Dark  and  gloomy  as  it  was,  I con- 
stantly let  down  the  window,  and  with  half  my  body  protruded, 
endeavored  to  catch  a glimpse  of  the  “ Chaise  ; ” but  nothing 
could  I see.  The  rain  now  fell  in  actual  torrents ; and  a more 
miserable  night  it  is  impossible  to  conceive. 

After  about  an  hour  so  spent,  we  at  last  came  to  a check,  so 
sudden  and  unexpected  on  my  part,  that  I was  nearly  precipita- 
ted, harlequin  fashion,  through  the  front  window.  Perceiving 
that  we  no  longer  moved,  and  suspecting  that  some  part  of  our 
tackle  had  given  way,  I let  down  the  sash,  and  cried  out,  “ Well 
now,  my  lad,  anything  wrong  ? ” My  question  was,  however, 
unheard  ; and  although,  amid  the  steam  arising  from  the  wet 
and  smoking  horses,  I could  perceive  several  figures  indistinctly 
moving  about,  I could  not  distinguish  what  they  were  doing, 
nor  what  they  said.  A laugh  I certainly  did  hear,  and  heartily 
cursed  the  unfeeling  wretch,  as  I supposed  him  to  be,  who  was 
enjoying  himself  at  my  disappointment.  I again  endeavored 
to  find  out  what  had  happened,  and  called  out  still  louder  than 
before. 

We  are  at  Ra’coole,  your  honor,”  said  the  boy,  approach- 
ing  the  door  of  the  chaise,  “ and  she’s  only  beat  us  by  hafe  a 
mile.” 

“ Who  the  devil  is  she  ? ” said  I. 

“ The  mail,  your  honor,  is  always  a female  in  Ireland. ’y 

“ Then  why  do  you  stop  now  ? You’re  not  going  to  feed,  I 
suppose  ? ” 

“ Of  coorse  not,  your  honor ; it’s  little  feeding  troubles  these 
bastes,  anyhow,  but  they  tell  me  the  road  is  so  heavy  we’ll  never 
take  the  chaise  over  the  next  stage  without  leaders.” 

“ Without  leaders!”  said  I.  “ Pooh  ! my  good  fellow,  no 
humbugging  ; four  horses  for  a light  post-chaise  and  no  luggage 
come,  get  up,  and  no  nonsense.”  At  this  moment  a man  ap- 
9 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


!3° 

proached  the  window  with  a lantern  in  his  hand,  and  so  strongly 
represented  the  dreadful  state  of  the  roads  from  the  late  rains — 
the  length  of  the  stage — the  frequency  of  accidents  latterly  from 
under-horsing,  etc.,  etc.,  that  I yielded  a reluctant  assent,  and 
ordered  out  the  leaders,  comforting  myself  the  while,  that,  con- 
sidering the  inside  fare  of  the  coach  I made  such  efforts  to 
overtake  was  under  a pound,  and  that  time  was  no  object  to  me, 
I was  certainly  paying  somewhat  dearly  for  my  character  for 
resolution. 

At  last  we  got  under  way  once  more,  and  set  off  cheered  by 
a tremendous  shout  from  at  least  a dozen  persons,  doubtless 
denizens  of  that  interesting  locality,  amid  which  I once  again 
heard  the  laugh  that  had  so  much  annoyed  me  already.  The 
rain  was  falling,  if  possible,  more  heavily  than  before,  and  had 
evidently  set  in  for  the  entire  night.  Throwing  myself  back 
into  a corner  of  the  “ leathern  convenience,”  I gave  myself  up 
to  the  full  enjoyment  of  the  Rochefoucauld  maxim  that  there  is 
always  a pleasure  felt  in  the  misfortunes  of  even  our  best  friend^ 
and  certainly  experienced  no  small  comfort  in  my  distress,  by 
contrasting  my  present  position  with  that  of  my  two  friends  in 
the  saddle,  as  they  sweltered  on  through  mud  and  mire,  rain  and 
storm.  On  we  went,  splashing,  bumping,  rocking,  and  jolting, 
till  I began  at  last  to  have  serious  thoughts  of  abdicating  the 
seat  and  betaking  myself  to  the  bottom  of  the  chaise,  for  safety 
and  protection.  Mile  after  mile  succeeded ; and  as  after  many 
a short  and  fitful  slumber,  which  my  dreams  gave  an  apparent 
length  to,  I awoke  only  to  find  myself  still  in  pursuit,  the  time 
seemed  so  enormously  protracted,  that  I began  to  fancy  my 
whole  life  was  to  be  passed  in  the  dark,  in  chase  of  the  Kil- 
kenny mail,  as  we  read  in  the  true  history  of  the  Flying  Dutch- 
man, who,  for  his  sins  of  impatience — like  mine — spent  centu- 
ries vainly  endeavoring  to  double  the  Cape,  or  the  Indian  mar* 
iner  in  Moore’s  beautiful  ballad,  of  whom  we  are  told  as — 

“Many  a day  to  night  gave  way, 

And  many  a morn  succeeded, 

Yet  still  his  flight,  by  day  and  night, 

That  restless  mariner  speeded.” 

This  might  have  been  all  very  well  in  the  tropics,  with  a 
smart  craft  and  doubtless  plenty  of  sea  store,  but  in  a chaise, 
at  night,  and  on  the  Naas  road,  I humbly  suggest  I had  all  the 
worst  of  the  parallel. 

At  last  the  altered  sound  of  the  wheels  gave  notice  of  our  ap- 
proach to  a town,  and  after  about  twenty  minutes'  rattling  over 
the  pavement,  we  entered  what  I supposed,  correctly,  to  be 


THE  CHASE . 


*3* 


Naas.  Here  I had  long  since  determined  my  pursuit  should 
cease.  I had  done  enough,  and  more  than  enough,  to  vindicate 
my  fame  against  any  charge  of  irresolution  as  to  leaving  Dub- 
lin, and  was  bethinking  me  of  the  various  modes  of  prosecuting 
my  journey  on  the  morrow,  when  we  drew  up  suddenly  at  the 
door  of  the  Swan.  The  arrival  of  a chaise  and  four  at  a small 
country  town  inn  suggests  to  the  various  officials  therein  any- 
thing rather  than  the  traveller  in  pursuit  of  the  mail,  and  so  the 
moment  I arrived  I was  assailed  with  innumerable  proffers  of 
horses,  supper,  bed,  and  so  on.  My  anxious  query  was  thrice 
repeated  in  vain,  “ When  did  the  coach  pass  ? ” 

“ The  mail,”  replied  the  landlord  at  length.  “ Is  it  the  down 
mail  ? ” 

Not  understanding  the  technical,  I answered,  “ Of  course  not 
the  Down — the  Kilkenny  and  Cork  mail.” 

“From  Dublin,  sir?  ” 

“Yes,  from  Dublin.” 

“ Not  arrived  yet,  sir,  nor  will  it  for  three-quarters  of  an  hour; 
they  never  leave  Dublin  till  a quarter-past  seven  ; that  is,  in 
fact,  half-past,  and  their  time  here  is  twenty  minutes  to  eleven.” 
“ Why,  you  stupid  son  of  a boot-top,  we  have  been  posting  on 
all  night  like  the  devil,  and  all  this  time  the  coach  has  been  ten 
miles  behind  us.” 

“Well,  we’ve  cotch  them  anyhow,  ” said  the  urchin,  as  he  dis- 
engaged himself  from  his  wet  saddle,  and  stood  upon  the  ground  ; 
“ and  it  is  not  my  fault  that  the  coach  is  not  before  us.” 

With  a satisfactory  anathema  upon  all  innkeepers,  waiters 
ostlers,  and  post  boys,  with  a codicil,  including  coach  proprie- 
tors, I followed  the  smirking  landlord  into  a well-lighted  room, 
with  a blazing  fire,  when,  having  ordered  supper,  I soon  re- 
gained my  equanimity. 

My  rasher  and  poached  eggs,  all  Naas  could  afford  me,  were 
speedily  despatched,  and  as  my  last  glass  from  my  one  pint  of 
sherry  was  poured  out,  the  long  expected  coach  drew  up.  A 
minute  after,  the  coachman  entered  to  take  his  dram,  followed 
by  the  guard.  A more  lamentable  spectacle  of  condensed 
moisture  cannot  be  conceived  ; the  rain  fell  from  the  entire  cir- 
cumference of  his  broad-brimmed  hat,  like  the  ever-flowing  drop 
from  the  edge  of  an  antique  fountain  ; his  drab  coat  had  become 
of  a deep  orange  hue,  while  his  huge  figure  loomed  still  larger, 
as  he  stood  amid  a nebula  of  damp  that  would  have  made  an 
atmosphere  for  the  Georgium  Sidus. 

“ Going  on  to-night,  sir  ? ” said  he,  addressing  me  ; “ severe 
weather,  and  no  chance  of  its  clearing ; but  of  course  you’re  in- 
side*” 


132 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


“ Why,  there  is  very  little  doubt  of  that,”  said  I.  “ Are  you, 
nearly  full  inside.” 

“ Only  one,  sir  ; but  he  seems  a real  queer  chap ; made  fifty 
inquiries  at  the  office  if  he  could  not  have  the  whole  inside  to 
himself,  and  when  he  heard  that  one  place  had  been  taken — 
yours,  I believe,  sir — he  seemed  like  a sc  alded  bear.” 

“ You  don’t  know  his  name,  then  ? ” 

“ No,  sir,  he  never  gave  a name  at  the  office,  and  his  only  lug- 
gage is  two  brown  paper  parcels,  without  any  ticket,  and  he  has 
them  inside  ; indeed,  he  never  lets  them  from  him,  even  for  a 
second.” 

Here  the  guard’s  horn,  announcing  all  ready,  interrupted  our 
colloquy,  and  prevented  my  learning  anything  further  of  my  fel- 
low-traveller, whom,  however,  I at  once  set  down  in  my  own  mind 
for  some  confounded  old  churl  that  made  himself  comfortable 
everywhere,  without  ever  thinking  of  any  one  else’s  conven- 
ience. 

As  I passed  from  the  inn  door  to  the  coach,  I once  more  con- 
gratulated myself  that  I was  about  to  be  housed  from  the  terri- 
fic storm  of  wind  and  rain  that  rallied  without. 

“ Here’s  the  step,  sir,”  said  the  guard  ; “ get  in,  sir  ; two  min- 
utes late  already.” 

“ I beg  your  pardon,  sir,”  said  I,  as  I half  fell  over  the  legs  of 
my  unseen  companion.  “ May  I request  leave  to  pass  you  ? ” 
While  he  made  way  for  me  for  this  purpose,  I perceived  that  he 
stooped  down  towards  the  guard,  and  said  something,  who,  from 
his  answer,  had  evidently  been  questioned  as  to  who  I was. 
“ And  how  did  he  get  here,  if  he  took  his  place  in  Dublin  ? ” 
asked  the  unknown. 

“ Came  half  an  hour  since,  sir,  in  a chaise  and  four,”  said  the 
guard,  as  he  banged  the  door  behind  him,  and  closed  the  inter- 
view. 

Whatever  might  have  been  the  reasons  for  my  fellow-traveller’s 
anxiety  about  my  name  and  occupation,  I knew  not,  yet  could 
not  help  feeling  gratified  at  thinking  that,  as  I had  not  given  my 
• name  at  the  coach-office,  I was  as  great  a puzzle  to  him  as  he  to 
me. 

“ A severe  night,  sir,”  said  I,  endeavoring  to  break  ground  in 
conversation. 

“ Mighty  severe/’  briefly  and  half-crustily  replied  the  unknown 
with  a richness  of  brogue  that  might  have  stood  for  a certificate 
of  baptism  in  Cork  or  its  vicinity. 

“ And  a bad  road  too,  sir,”  said  I,  remembering  my  lately 
accomplished  stage. 

v That’s  the  reason  I always  go  armed,”  said  the  unknown. 


THE  CHASE . 


1 33 


clinking  at  the  same  moment  something  like  the  barrel  of  a 
pistol. 

Wondering  somewhat  at  his  readiness  to  mistake  my  mean- 
ing, I felt  disposed  to  drop  any  further  effort  to  draw  him  out, 
and  was  about  to  address  myself  to  sleep,  as  comfortably  as  I 
could. 

“ I’ll  just  trouble  ye  to  lean  off  that  little  parcel  there,  sir,” 
said  he,  as  he  displaced  from  its  position  beneath  my  elbow 
one  of  the  paper  packages  the  guard  had  already  alluded  to. 

In  complying  with  this  rather  gruff  demand,  one  of  my 
pocket-pistols,  which  I carried  in  my  breast  pocket,  fell  out  upon 
his  knee,  upon  which  he  immediately  started,  and  asked  hur- 
riedly, “ And  are  you  armed  too  ? ” 

“Why,  yes,”  said  I,  laughingly;  “men  of  my  trade  seldom 
go  without  something  of  this  kind.” 

“ Be  gorra,  I was  just  thinking  that  same,”  said  the  traveller, 
with  a half  sigh  to  himself. 

Why  he  should  or  should  not  have  thought  so,  I never  troub- 
led myself  to  canvass,  and  was  once  more  settling  myself  in  my 
corner,  when  I was  startled  by  a very  melancholy  groan,  which 
seemed  to  come  from  the  bottom  of  my  companion’s  heart. 

“ Are  you  ill,  sir  ? ” said  I,  in  a voice  of  some  anxiety. 

“ You  may  say  that,”  replied  he,  “ if  you  knew  who  you  were 
talking  to,  although  maybe  you’ve  heard  enough  of  me,  though 
you  never  saw  me  till  now.” 

“ Without  having  that  pleasure  even  yet,”  said  I,  “ it  would 
grieve  me  to  think  you  should  be  ill  in  the  coach.” 

“ Maybe  it  might,”  briefly  replied  the  unknown,  with  a spe- 
cies of  meaning  in  his  words  I could  not  then  understand. 
“ Did  ye  never  hear  tell  of  Barney  Doyle  ? ” said  he. 

“ Not  to  my  recollection.” 

“ Then  I’m  Barney,”  said  he,  “ that’s  in  all  the  newspapers  in 
the  metropolis.  I’m  seventeen  weeks  in  Jervis  Street  Hospital, 
and  four  in  the  Lunatic,  and  the  devil  a better  after  all.  You 
must  be  a stranger,  I’m  thinking,  or  you’d  know  me  now.” 

“ Why,  I do  confess  I’ve  only  been  a few  hours  in  Ireland 
for  the  last  six  months.” 

“ Ay,  that’s  the  reason ; I knew  you  would  not  be  fond  of 
travelling  with  me,  if  you  knew  who  it  was.” 

“ Why,  really,”  said  I,  beginning  at  the  moment  to  fathom 
some  of  the  hints  of  my  companion,  “ I did  not  anticipate  the 
pleasure  of  meeting  you.” 

“ It’s  pleasure  ye  call  it ; then  there’s  no  accountin’  for  tastes, 
as  Dr.  Colies  said,  when  he  saw  me  bite  Cusack  Rooney’s 
thumb  off,” 


*34 


HARRY  LORREQUER . 


“ Bite  a man’s  thumb  off  ! ” said  I,  in  horror. 

“Ay,”  said  he,  with  a kind  of  fiendish  animation,  “ in  one  chop 
I wish  you’d  seen  how  I scattered  the  consultation  ; begad,  they 
didn’t  wait  to  ax  for  a fee.” 

“ Upon  my  soul,  a very  pleasant  vicinity,”  thought  I.  “ And 
may  I ask,  sir,”  said  I,  in  a very  mild  and  soothing  tone  of 
voice — “ may  I ask  the  reason  for  this  singular  propensity  of 
yours  ? ” 

“ There  it  is  now,  my  dear,”  said  he,  laying  his  hand  upon 
my  knee  familiarly,  “ that’s  just  the  very  thing  they  can’t  make 
out.  Colles  said,  it’s  all  the  ceribellum,  ye  see,  that’s  inflamed 
and  combusted,  and  some  of  the  others  think  it’s  the  spine  ; and 
more,  the  muscles ; but  my  real  impression  is,  the  devil  a bit 
they  know  about  it  at  all.” 

“ And  have  they  no  name  for  the  malady  ? ” said  I. 

“ Oh,  sure  enough  they  have  a name  for  it.” 

“ And,  may  I ask ” 

“ Why,  I think  you’d  better  not,  because,  ye  see,  maybe  I 
might  be  troublesome  to  ye  in  the  night,  though  I’ll  not  if  I can 
help  it ; and  it  might  be  uncomfortable  to  you  to  be  here  if  I 
was  to  get  one  of  the  fits.” 

“ One  of  the  fits  ! Why,  it’s  not  possible,  sir,”  said  I?  “ you 
would  travel  in  a public  conveyance  in  the  state  you  mentioned  ; 
your  friends  surely  would  not  permit  it  ? ” 

“ Why,  if  they  knew , perhaps,”  slyly  responded  the  interest- 
ing invalid — “ if  they  knew , they  might  not  exactly  like  it,  but, 
ye  see,  I escaped  only  last  night,  and  there’ll  be  a fine  hubbub 
in  the  morning,  when  they  find  I’m  off;  though  I’m  thinking 
Rooney’s  barking  away  by  this  time.” 

“ Rooney  barking  ! — why,  what  does  that  mean  ? ” 

“ They  always  bark  for  a day  or  two  after  they’re  bit,  if  the 
infection  comes  first  from  the  dog.” 

“ You  are  surely  not  speaking  of  hydrophobia,”  said  I,  my 
hair  actually  bristling  with  horror  and  consternation. 

“ Ain’t  I ! ” replied  he  ; “ maybe,  you’ve  guessed  it,  though.” 
“ And  have  you  the  malady  on  you  at  present  ? ” said  I,  tremb- 
ling for  the  answer. 

“ This  is  the  ninth  day  since  I took  to  biting,”  said  he, 
gravely,  perfectly  unconscious,  as  it  appeared,  of  the  terror  such 
information  was  calculated  to  convey. 

“ And  with  such  a propensity,  sir,  do  you  think  yourself  war- 
ranted in  travelling  in  a public  coach,  exposing  others — — ” 
“You’d  better  not  raise  your  voice  that  way,”  quietly  re- 
sponded he.  “ If  I’m  roused,  it’ll  be  worse  for  ye,  that's 
all” 


THE  CHASE. 


f3S 

“ Well,  but,”  said  I,  moderating  my  zeal,  “ is  it  exactly  pru- 
dent, in  your  present  delicate  state,  to  undertake  a journey?” 

“Ah,”  said  he,  with  a sigh,  “I’ve  been  longing  to  see  the 
fox-bounds  throw  off  near  Kilkenny  ; these  three  weeks  I’ve 
been  thinking  of  nothing  else ; but  I’m  not  sure  how  my  nerves 
will  stand  the  cry;  I might  be  troublesome.” 

“ Upon  my  soul,”  thought  I,  “ I shall  not  select  that  morn- 
ing for  my  ddbut  in  the  field.” 

“ I hope,  sir,  there’s  no  river  or  watercourse  on  this  road — 
anything  else,  I can,  I hope,  control  myself  against ; but  water 
— running  water  particularly — makes  me  troublesome.” 

Well  knowing  what  he  meant  by  the  latter  phrase,  I felt  the 
cold  perspiration  settling  on  my  forehead  as  I remembered  that 
we  must  be  within  about  ten  or  twelve  miles  of  Leighlin  Bridge, 
where  we  should  have  to  pass  a very  wide  river.  I strictly  con. 
cealed  this  fact  from  him,  however,  and  gave  him  to  understand 
that  there  was  not  a well,  brook,  or  rivulet  for  forty  miles  on 
either  side  of  us.  He  now  sank  into  a kind  of  moody  silence, 
broken  occasionally  by  a low  muttering  noise,  as  if  speaking  to 
himself — what  this  might  portend,  I knew  not — but  thought  it 
better,  under  all  circumstances,  not  to  disturb  him.  How  com- 
fortable my  present  condition  was  I need  scarcely  remark, 
sitting  vis-a-vis  to  a lunatic,  with  a pair  of  pistols  in  his  posses- 
sion, who  had  already  avowed  his  consciousness  of  his  tendency 
to  do  mischief,  and  his  inability  to  master  it;  all  this  in  the 
dark,  and  in  the  narrow  limits  of  a mail  coach,  where  there  was 
scarcely  room  for  defence,  and  no  possibility  of  escape.  How 
heartily  I wished  myself  back  in  the  coffee-room  at  Morrisson’s, 
with  my  poor  friend  Tom.  The  infernal  chaise,  that  I cursed  a 
hundred  times,  would  have  been  an  “ exchange,”  better  than 
into  the  Life  Guards — ay,  even  the  outside  of  the  coach,  if  I 
could  only  reach  it,  would,  under  present  circumstances,  be  a 
glorious  alternative  to  my  existing  misfortune.  What  were  rain 
and  storm,  thunder  and  lightning,  compared  with  the  chances 
that  awaited  me  here  ? — wet  through  I should  inevitably  be,  but 
then  I had  not  yet  contracted  the  horror  of  moisture  my  friend 
opposite  labored  under.  “ Ha  ! what  is  that  ? — is  it  possible 
he  can  be  asleep ; — is  it  really  a snore  ? — Heaven  grant  that 
little  snort  be  not  what  the  medical  people  call  a premonitory 
symptom — if  so,  he’ll  be  in  upon  me  now,  in  no  time.  Ah? 
there  it  is  again ; he  must  be  asleep,  surely  ; now  then  is  my 
time  or  never.”  With  these  words,  muttered  to  myself,  and 
a heart  throbbing  almost  audibly  at  the  risk  of  his  awakening, 

I slowly  let  down  the  window  of  the  coach,  and  stretching 
forth  my  hand,  turned  the  handle  cautiously  and  slowly ; J 


136  BARRY  LORREQUER. 

next  disengaged  my  legs,  and  by  a long  continuous  effort  of 
creeping — which  I had  learned  perfectly  once,  when  practising 
to  go  as  a boa-constrictor  to  a fancy  ball — I withdrew  myself 
from  the  seat  and  reached  the  step,  when  I muttered  something 
very  like  a thanksgiving  to  Providence  for  my  rescue.  With 
little  difficulty  I now  climbed  up  beside  the  guard,  whose 
astonishment  at  my  appearance  was  indeed  considerable  ; that 
any  man  should  prefer  the  out,  to  the  inside  of  a coach,  in  such 
a night,  was  rather  remarkable  ; but  that  the  person  so  doing 
should  be  totally  unprovided  with  a box-coat,  or  other  similar 
protection,  argued  something  so  strange,  that  I doubt  not,  if  he 
were  to  decide  upon  the  applicability  of  the  statute  of  lunacy  to 
a traveller  in  the  mail,  the  palm  would  certainly  have  been 
awarded  to  me,  and  not  to  my  late  companion.  Well,  on  we 
rolled,  and  heavily  as  the  rain  poured  down,  so  relieved  did  I 
feel  at  my  change  of  position,  that  I soon  fell  fast  asleep,  and 
never  woke  till  the  coach  was  driving  up  Patrick  Street.  What- 
ever solace  to  my  feelings  reaching  the  outside  of  the  coach 
might  have  been  attended  with  at  night,  the  pleasure  I experi- 
enced on  awaking  was  really  not  unalloyed.  More  dead  than 
alive,  I sat  a mass  of  wet  clothes,  like  nothing  under  heaven 
except  it  be  that  morsel  of  black  and  spongy  wet  cotton  at  the 
bottom  of  a schoolboy’s  ink  bottle,  saturated  with  rain,  and  the 
black  dye  of  my  coat.  My  hat,  too,  had  contributed  its  share 
of  coloring  matter,  and  several  long  black  streaks  coursed 
down  my  “wrinkled  front,”  giving  me  very. much  the  air  of  an 
Indian  warrior,  who  had  got  the  first  priming  of  his  war  paint. 
I certainly  must  have  been  a rueful  object,  were  I only  to  judge 
from  the  faces  of  the  waiters  as  they  gazed  on  me  when  the 
coach  drew  up  at  Rice  and  Walsh’s  Hotel.  Cold,  wet,  and 
weary  as  I was,  my  curiosity  to  learn  more  of  my  late  agreeable 
companion  was  strong  as  ever  within  me — perhaps  stronger, 
from  the  sacrifices  his  acquaintance  had  exacted  from  me. 
Before,  however,  1 had  disengaged  myself  from  the  pile  of 
trunks  and  carpet  bags  I had  surrounded  myself  with,  he  had 
got  out  of  the  coach,  and  all  I could  catch  a glimpse  of  was  the 
back  of  a little  short  man  in  a kind  of  gray  upper  coat,  and  long 
galligaskins  on  his  legs.  He  carried  his  two  bundles  under  his 
arm,  and  stepped  nimbly  up  the  steps  of  the  hotel,  without  ever 
turning  his  head  to  either  side. 

“ Don’t  fancy  you  shall  escape  me  now,  my  good  friend,”  I 
cried  out,  as  I sprang  from  the  roof  to  the  ground,  with  one 
jump,  and  hurried  after  the  great  unknown  into  the  coffee-room. 
By  the  time  I reached  it  he  had  approached  the  fire,  on  the 
table  near  which,  having  deposited  the  mysterious  paper  parcels, 


THE  CHASE. 


137 


he  was  now  busily  engaged  in  divesting  himself  of  his  great- 
coat ; his  face  was  still  turned  from  me,  so  that  I had  time  to 
appear  employed  in  divesting  myself  of  my  wet  drapery  before 
he  perceived  me ; at  last  the  coat  was  unbuttoned,  the  gaiters 
followed,  and,  throwing  them  carelessly  on  a chair,  he  tucked 
up  the  skirts  of  his  coat,  and,  spreading  himself  comfortably, 
a T Anglais , before  the  fire,  displayed  to  my  wondering  and  stupe- 
fied gaze  the  pleasant  features  of  Doctor  Finucane. 

“ Why,  Doctor — Doctor  Finucane,”  cried  I,  “ is  this  possible  ? 
Were  you  then  really  the  inside  in  the  mail  last  night?” 

“ Devil  a doubt  of  it,  Mr.  Lorrequer  ; and,  may  I make  bould 
to  ask,  were  you  the  outside  ? ” 

“Then  what,  may  I beg  to  know,  did  you  mean  by  your 
damned  story  about  Barney  Doyle,  and  the  hydrophobia,  and 
Cusack  Rooney’s  thumb — eh  ? ” 

“ Oh,  by  the  Lord  ! ” said  Finucane,  “ this  will  be  the  death 
of  me.  And  it  wasjr^  that  I drove  outside  in  all  the  rain  last 
night ! Oh,  it  will  kill  Father  Malachi  outright  with  laughing 
when  I tell  him.”  And  he  burst  out  into  a fit  of  merriment  that 
nearly  induced  me  to  break  his  head  with  the  poker. 

“ Am  I to  understand,  then,  Mr.  Finucane,  that  this  practical 
joke  of  yours  was  contrived  for  my  benefit,  and  for  the  purpose 
of  holding  me  up  to  the  ridicule  of  your  confounded  acquaint- 
ances ? ” 

“ Nothing  of  the  kind,  upon  my  conscience,”  said  Fin,  drying 
his  eyes,  and  endeavoring  to  look  sorry  and  sentimental.  “ If 
I had  only  the  least  suspicion  in  life  that  it  was  you,  upon  my 
oath  I’d  not  have  had  the  hydrophobia  at  all,  and  to  tell  you 
the  truth,  you  were  not  the  only  one  frightened — you  alarmed 
me  devilishly  too.” 

“ I alarmed  you  ! Why,  how  can  that  be  ? ” 

“ Why,  the  real  affair  is  this  : I was  bringing  these  two  pack- 
ages of  notes  down  to  my  cousin  Callaghan’s  bank  in  Cork — 
fifteen  thousand  pounds,  devil  a less — and  when  you  came  into 
the  coach  at  Naas,  after  driving  there  with  your  four  horses,  I 
thought  it  was  all  up  with  me.  The  guard  just  whispered  in  my 
ear  that  he  saw  you  look  at  the  priming  of  your  pistols  before 
getting  in;  and  faith  I said  four  Paters  and  a Hail  Mary,  be- 
fore you’d  count  five.  Well,  when  you  get  seated,  the  thought 
came  into  my  mind  that  maybe,  highwayman  as  you  were,  you 
would  not  like  dying  a natural  death,  more  particularly  if  you 
were  an  Irishman  ; and  so  I trumped  up  that  long  story  about 
the  hydrophobia,  and  the  gentleman’s  thumb,  and  devil  knows 
what  besides  ; and  while  I was  telling  it,  the  cold  perspiration 
was  running  down  my  head  and  face,  for  every  time  you  stirred, 


13S  HARR  Y LORREQUER. 

I said  to  myself,  now,  he’ll  do  it.  Two  or  three  times,  do  you 
know,  I was  going  to  offer  you  ten  shillings  in  the  pound,  and 
spare  my  life  ; and  once,  God  forgive  me,  I thought  it  would  not 
be  a bad  plan  to  shoot  you  by  6 mistake,’  do  you  perceive  ? ” 

“ Why,  upon  my  soul,  I’m  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  your 
excessively  kind  intentions  ; but  really  I feel  you  have  done 
quite  enough  for  me  on  the  present  occasion.  But,  come  now 
doctor,  I must  get  to  bed,  and  before  I go,  promise  me  two 
things — to  dine  with  us  to-day  at  the  mess,  and  not  to  mention 
a syllable  of  what  occurred  last  night — it  tells,  believe  me,  very 
badly  for  both  ; so,  keep  the  secret,  for  if  these  confounded 
fellows  of  ours  ever  get,hold  of  it  I may  sell  out  and  quit  the 
army  ; I’ll  never  hear  the  end  of  it ! ” 

“ Never  fear,  my  boy ; trust  me.  I’ll  dine  with  you,  and 
you’re  as  safe  as  a church-mouse  for  anything  I’ll  tell  them  ; sc;, 
now  you’d  better  change  your  clothes,  for  I’m  thinking  it  rained 
last  night.” 

Muttering  some  very  dubious  blessings  upon  the  learned 
Fin,  I left  the  room,  infinitely  more  chagrined  and  chopfallen 
at  the  discovery  I had  made,  than  at  all  the  misery  and  expos- 
ure the  trick  had  consigned  me  to.  “ However,”  thought  I, 
“ if  the  doctor  keep  his  word,  all  goes  well  : the  whole  affair  is 
between  us  both  solely  ; but,  should  it  not  be  so,  I may  shoot 
half  the  mess  before  the  other  half  would  give  up  quizzing  me.” 
Revolving  such  pleasant  thoughts,  I betook  nyself  to  bed,  and, 
what  with  mulled  port,  and  a blazing  fire,  became  once  more 
conscious  of  being  a warm-blooded  animal,  and  fell  sound 
asleep,  to  dream  of  doctors,  strait-waistcoats,  shaved  heads,  and 
all  the  pleasing  associations  my  late  companion’s  narrative  s r 
readily  suggested. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

MEMS.  OF  THE  NORTH  CORK. 

At  six  o’clock  I had  the  pleasure  of  presenting  the  worthy 
Doctor  Finucane  to  our  mess,  taking  at  the  same  time  an  op- 
portunity, unobserved  by  him,  to  inform  three  or  four  of  my 
brother  officers  that  my  friend  was  really  a character,  abound- 
ing in  native  drollery,  and  richer  in  good  stories  than  even  the 
generality  of  his  countrymen. 

Nothing  could  possibly  go  on  better  than  the  early  part  of 


ME  MS.  OF  THE  NORTH  CORK. 


139 


the  evening.  Fin,  true  to  his  promise,  never  once  alluded  to 
what  I could  plainly  perceive  was  ever  uppermost  in  his  mind, 
and  what  with  his  fund  of  humor,  quaintness  of  expression, 
and  quickness  at  reply,  garnished  throughout  by  his  most  melli- 
fluous brogue,  the  true  “ Bocca  Corkana,”  kept  us  from  one 
roar  of  laughter  to  another.  It  was  just  at  the  moment  in 
which  his  spirits  seemed  at  their  highest,  that  I had  the  mis- 
fortune to  call  upon  him  for  a story  which  his  cousin,  Father 
Malachi,  had  alluded  to  on  the  ever-memorable  evening  at  his 
house,  and  which  I had  a great  desire  to  hear  from  Fin’s  own 
lips.  He  seemed  disposed  to  escape  telling  it,  and,  upon  my 
continuing  to  press  my  request,  drily  remarked, — 

“ You  forget,  surely,  my  dear  Mr.  Lorrequer,  the  weak  con- 
dition I’m  in  ; and  these  gentlemen  here,  they  don’t  know  what 
a severe  illness  I’ve  been  laboring  under  lately,  or  they  would 
not  pass  the  decanter  so  freely  down  this  quarter.” 

I had  barely  time  to  throw  a mingled  look  of  entreaty  and 
menace  across  the  table  when  half  a dozen  others,  rightly  judg- 
ing from  the  doctor’s  tone  and  serio-comic  expression,  that  his 
malady  had  many  more  symptoms  of  fun  than  suffering  about 
it,  called  out  together, — 

“ Oh,  doctor,  by  all  means,  tell  us  the  nature  of  your  late  at- 
tack— pray  relate  it.” 

“ With  Mr.  Lorrequer’s  permission,  I’m  your  slave,  gentle- 
men,” said  Fin,  finishing  off  his  glass. 

“ Oh,  as  for  me,”  I cried,  “ Dr.  Finucane  has  my  full  per- 
mission to  detail  whatever  he  pleases  to  think  a fit  subject  for 
your  amusement.” 

“ Come,  then,  doctor,  Harry  has  no  objection,  you  see  ; so 
out  with  it,  and  we  are  all  prepared  to  sympathize  with  your 
woes  and  misfortunes,  whatever  they  be.” 

“ Well,  I am  sure,  I never  could  think  of  mentioning  it 
without  his  leave  ; but  now  that  he  sees  no  objection — Eh,  do 
you,  though  ? If  so,  then,  don’t  be  winking  and  making  faces 
at  me  ; but  say  the  word,  and  devil  a syllable  of  it  I’ll  tell  to 
man  or  mortal.” 

The  latter  part  of  this  delectable  speech  was  addressed  to 
me  across  the  table,  in  a species  of  stage  whisper,  in  reply  to 
some  telegraphic  signals,  I had  been  throwing  him,  to  induce 
him  to  turn  the  conversation  into  another  channel. 

- “Then,  that’s  enough,”  continued  he,  sotto  voce — “ I see  you’d 
rather  I’d  not  tell  it.” 

“ Tell  it  and  be  d d,”  said  I,  wearied  by  the  incorrigi- 

ble pertinacity  with  which  the  villain  assailed  me.  My  most 
unexpected  energy  threw  the  whole  table  into  a roar,  at  the 


146  HARR  V LORREQUER. 

conclusion  of  which  Fin  began  his  narrative  of  the  mail-coach 
adventure. 

I need  not  tell  my  reader,  who  has  followed  me  throughout 
in  these  my  “ Confessions,”  that  such  a story  lost  nothing  of 
its  absurdity  when  entrusted  to  the  doctor’s  powers  of  narra- 
tion ; he  dwelt  with  a poet’s  feeling  upon  the  description  of 
his  own  sufferings,  and  my  sincere  condolence  and  commiser- 
ation ; he  touched  with  the  utmost  delicacy  upon  the  distant 
hints  by  which  he  broke  the  news  to  me  ; but  when  he  came 
to  describe  my  open  and  undisguised  terror,  and  my  secret 
and  precipitate  retreat  to  the  roof  of  the  coach,  there  was  not 
a man  at  the  table  that  was  not  convulsed  with  laughter — 
and,  shall  I acknowledge  it,  even  I myself  was  unable  to  with- 
stand the  effect,  and  joined  in  the  general  chorus  against  my- 
self. 

“ Well,”  said  the  romorseless  wretch,  as  he  finished  his  story, 
“ if  ye  haven’t  the  hard  hearts  to  laugh  at  such  a melancholy 
subject ! Maybe,  however,  you’re  not  so  cruel  after  all — here’s 
a toast  for  you  : ‘ A speedy  recovery  to  Cusack  Rooney.’  ” 
This  was  drunk  amid  renewed  peals,  with  all  the  honors ; and 
I had  abundant  time  before  the  uproar  was  over  to  wish  every 
man  of  them  hanged.  It  was  to  no  purpose  that  I endeavored 
to  turn  the  tables  by  describing  Fin’s  terror  at  my  supposed 
resemblance  to  a highwayman — his  story  had  the  precedence, 
and  I met  nothing  during  my  recital  but  sly  allusions  to  mad 
dogs,  muzzles,  and  doctors  ; and  contemptible  puns  were  let 
off  on  every  side  at  my  expense. 

“ It’s  a little  shame  I take  to  myself  for  the  mistake,  any- 
how,” said  Fin  ; “ for,  putting  the  darkness  of  the  night  out  of  the 
question,  I’m  not  so  sure  I would  not  have  ugly  suspicions  of 
you  by  daylight.” 

“ And  besides,  doctor,”  added  I,  “ it  would  not  be  your  first 
blunder  in  the  dark.” 

“ True  for  you,  M.  Lorrequer,”  said  he,  good-humoredly  : 
“ and  now  that  I have  told  them  your  story,  I don’t  care  if 
they  hear  mine,  though,  maybe,  some  of  ye  have  heard  it 
already : it’s  pretty  well  known  in  the  North  Cork.” 

We  all  gave  our  disclaimers  on  this  point,  and  having  ordered 
in  a fresh  cooper  of  port,  disposed  ourselves  in  our  most  easy 
attitudes,  while  the  doctor  proceeded  as  follows : — 

“ It  was  in  the  hard  winter  of  the  year  ’99  that  we  were 
quartered  in  Maynooth,  as  many  said,  for  our  sins — for  a more 
stupid  place,  the  lord  be  merciful  to  it,  never  were  men  con- 
demned to.  The  people  at  the  college  were  much  better  off 
than  us  ; they  had  whatever  was  to  be  got  in  the  country, 


ME  MS.  OF  THE  NORTH  CORA . 14! 

and  never  were  disturbed  by  mounting  guard,  cr  night  patrols. 
Many  of  the  professors  were  good  fellows,  that  liked  grog, 
fully  as  well  as  Greek,  and  understood  short  whist  and  five- 
and-ten  quite  as  intimately  as  they  knew  the  Vulgate,  or  the 
confessions  of  St.  Augustine.  They  made  no  ostentatious  dis- 
play of  their  pious  zeal,  but  whenever  they  were  not  fasting 
or  praying,  or  something  of  that  kind,  they  were  always  pleas- 
ant and  agreeable ; and,  to  do  them  justice,  never  refused,  by 
any  chance,  an  invitation  to  dinner — no  matter  at  what  in- 
convenience. Well,  even  this  solace  to  our  affliction  was  soon 
lost  by  an  unfortunate  mistake  of  that  Orange  rogue  of  the 
world,  Major  Jones,  that  gave  a wrong  pass  one  night — Mr. 
Lorrequer  knows  the  story  ” — (here  he  alluded  to  an  adven- 
ture detailed  in  an  early  chapter  of  my  “ Confessions  ”) — 44  and 
from  that  day  forward  we  never  saw  the  pleasant  faces  of 
the  Abbe  D’Array,  or  the  Professor  of  the  Humanities,  at  the 
mess.  Well,  the  only  thing  I could  do,  was  just  to  take  an 
opportunity  to  drop  in  at  the  college  in  the  evening,  where  we 
had  a quiet  rubber  of  whist,  and  a little  social  and  intellectual 
conversation,  with  maybe  an  oyster  and  a glass  of  punch,  just 
to  season  the  thing,  before  we  separated,  all  done  discreetly 
and  quietly — no  shouting,  or  even  singing,  for  the  ‘ superior ’ 
had  a prejudice  about  profane  songs.  Well,  one  of  those  nights, 
it  was  about  the  first  week  in  February — I was  detained  by  stress 
of  weather  from  eleven  o’clock,  when  we  usually  bade  good- 
night, to  past  twelve,  and  then  to  one  o’clock,  waiting  for  a 
dry  moment  to  get  home  to  the  barracks — a good  mile  and  a 
half  off.  Every  time  old  Father  Mahony  went  to  look  at  the 
weather,  he  came  back,  saying,  4 It’s  worse  it’s  getting — such  a 
night  of  rain,  glory  be  to  God,  never  was  seen.  So  there  was 
no  good  in  going  out  to  be  drenched  to  the  skin,  and  I sat  quiet- 
ly waiting,  taking  between  times  a little  punch,  just  not  to  seem 
impatient,  nor  distress  their  rev’rences.  At  last  it  struck  two, 
and  I thought,  4 Well,  the  decanter  is  empty  now,  and  I think, 
if  I mean  to  walk,  I’ve  taken  enough  for  the  present ; ’ so,  wish- 
ing them  all  manner  of  happiness  and  pleasant  dreams,  I stum- 
bled my  way  down  stairs,  and  set  out  on  my  journey.  I was 
always  in  the  habit  of  taking  a short  cut  on  my  way  home  across 
the  4 Gurt  na  brocha,’  the  priest’s  meadows,  as  they  call  them, 
it  saved  nearly  half  a mile,  although  on  the  present  occasion,  it 
exposed  one  wofully  to  the  rain,  for  there  was  nothing  to  shelter 
under  the  entire  way,  not  even  a tree.  Well,  out  I set  in  a half 
trot,  for  I stayed  so  late  I was  pressed  for  time ; besides,  I felt 
it  easier  to  run  than  to  walk,  I’m  sure  I can’t  tell  why  ; maybe, 
the  drop  of  drink  I took  got  into  my  head.  Well,  I was  just 


142 


HARRY  LORRRQURM. 


jogging  on  across  the  common,  the  rain  beating  hard  in  my  face, 
and  my  clothes  pasted  to  me  with  the  wet;  notwithstanding,  I 
was  singing  to  myself  a verse  of  an  old  song  to  lighten  the  road 
when  I heard  suddenly  a noise  near  me  like  a man  sneezing. 
I stopped  and  listened — in  fact,  it  was  impossible  to  see  your 
hand,  the  night  was  so  dark — but  I could  hear  nothing ; the 
thought  then  came  over  me,  maybe  it’s  something 4 not  good,’ 
for  there  were  very  ugly  stories  going  about  what  the  priests 
used  to  do  formerly  in  these  meadows ; and  bones  were  often 
found  in  different  parts  of  them.  Just  as  I was  thinking  this, 
another  voice  came  nearer  than  the  last,  it  might  be  only  a sneeze, 
after  all,  but  in  real  earnest  it  was  mighty  like  a groan.  4 The 
Lord  be  about  us/  I said  to  myself,  4 what’s  this  ? have  ye  the 
pass  ? ’ I cried  out,  4 Have  ye  the  pass  ? or  what  brings  ye  walk- 
ing here,  in  nomine patri  ? ’ for  I was  so  confused  whether  it  was 
a 4 sperit  ’ or  not,  I was  going  to  address  him  in  Latin — there’s 
nothing  equal  to  the  dead  languages  to  lay  a ghost,  everybody 
knows.  Faith,  the  moment  I said  these  words,  he  gave  another 
groan,  deeper  and  more  melancholy  like  than  before.  4 If  it’s 
uneasy  ye  are,’  says  I,  4 for  any  neglect  of  your  friends/  for  I 
thought  he  might  be  in  purgatory  longer  than  he  thought  con- 
venient, 4 tell  me  what  you  wish,  and  go  home  peaceably  out  of 
the  rain,  for  this  weather  can  do  no  good  to  living  or  dead  ; 4 go 
home,’  said  I,  4 and,  if  it’s  masses  ye’d  like,  I’ll  give  you  a day’s 
pay  myself,  rather  than  you  should  fret  yourself  this  way.’  The 
words  were  not  well  out  of  my  mouth,  when  he  came  so  near  me 
that  the  sigh  he  gave  went  right  through  both  my  ears.  4 The 
Lord  be  merciful  to  me/  said  I,  trembling.  4 Amen/  say§  he, 
in  a husky  voice.  The  moment  he  said  that,  my  mind  was  re- 
lieved, for  I knew  it  was  not  a sperit,  and  I began  to  laugh 
heartily  at  my  mistake.  4 And  who  are  ye  at  all,’  said  I,  4 that’s 
roving  about  at  this  hour  of  the  night?  Ye  can’t  be  Father 
Luke,  for  I left  him  asleep  on  the  carpet  before  I quitted  the 
college,  and  faith,  my  friend,  if  you  hadn’t  the  taste  for  divarsion, 
ye  would  not  be  out  now.’  He  coughed  then  so  hard,  that  I could 
not  make  out  well  what  he  said,  but  just  perceived  that  he  had 
lost  his  way  on  the  common,  and  was  a little  disguised  in  liquor. 
4 It’s  a good  man’s  case/  said  I,  4 to  take  a little  too  much,  though 
it’s  what  I don’t  ever  do  myself ; so,  take  a hold  of  my  hand 
and  I’ll  see  you  safe.’  I stretched  out  my  hand,  and  got  him, 
not  by  the  arm,  as  I hoped,  but  by  the  hair  of  the  head,  for  he 
was  all  dripping  with  wet,  and  had  lost  his  hat.  4 Well,  you’d 
not  be  better  of  this  night’s  excursion/  thought  I,  4 if  ye  are  lia- 
ble to  the  rheumatism  • and  now,  whereabouts  do  you  live,  my 
friend  ? for  I’ll  see  you  safe  before  I leave  you.’  What  he  said 


ME  MS.  OF  THE  NORTH  CORK. 


M3 

then  I never  could  clearly  make  out,  for  the  wind  and  rain  were 
both  beating  so  hard  against  my  face,  that  I could  not  hear  a 
word  , however,  I was  able  just  to  perceive  that  he  was  very 
much  disguised  in  drink,  and  spoke  rather  thick.  4 Well,  never 
mind,'  said  I,  4 it’s  not  a time  of  day  for  much  conversation  ; so, 
come  along,  and  I’ll  see  you  safe  to  the  guard-house,  if  you  can’t 
remember  your  own  place  of  abode  in  the  mean  while.’  It  was 
just  at  this  moment  I said  this  that  I first  discoverd  he  was  not 
a gentleman.  Well,  now,  you’d  never  guess  how  I did  it : and, 
faith,  I always  thought  it  a very  ’cute  thing  of  me,  and  both  of 
us  in  the  dark.” 

44  Well,  I really  confess  it  must  have  been  a very  difficult  thing, 
under  the  circumstances  ; pray  how  did  you  contrive  ? ” said  the 
major. 

“ Just  guess  how.” 

“ By  the  tone  of  his  voice,  perhaps,  and  his  accent,”  said 
Curzon. 

“ Devil  a bit ; for  he  spoke  remarkably  well,  considering  how 
far  gone  he  was  in  liquor.” 

“ Well,  probably  by  the  touch  of  his  hand,  no  bad  test.” 

“ No ; you’re  wrong  again,  for  it  was  by  the  hair  I had  a hold 
of  him  for  fear  of  falling,  for  he  was  always  stooping  down. 
Well,  you’d  never  guess  it ; it  was  just  by  the  touch  of  his  foot.” 

44  His  foot  ! Why  how  did  that  give  you  any  information  ? ” 

44  There  it  is  now  ; that’s  just  what  only  an  Irishman  would 
ever  have  made  anything  out  of ; for  while  he  was  stumbling 
about,  he  happened  to  tread  upon  my  toes,  and  never  since  I 
was  born  did  I feel  anything  like  the  weight  of  him.  4 Well,’ 
said  I,  4 the  loss  of  your  hat  may  give  you  a cold,  my  friend  ; 
but  upon  my  conscience  you  are  in  no  danger  of  wet  feet  with 
such  a pair  of  strong  brogues  as  you  have  on  you.’  Well,  he 
laughed  at  that  till  I thought  he’d  split  his  sides,  and,  in  good 
truth,  I could  not  help  joining  in  the  fun,  although  my  foot  was 
smarting  like  mad,  and  so  we  jogged  along  through  the  rain, 
enjoying  the  joke  just  as  if  we  were  sitting  by  a good  fire,  with 
a jorum  of  punch  between  us.  I am  sure  I can’t  tell  you  how 
often  we  fell  that  night,  but  my  clothes  the  next  morning  were 
absolutely  covered  with  mud,  and  my  hat  crushed  in  two ; for 
he  was  so  confoundedly  drunk  it  was  impossible  to  keep  him 
up,  and  he  always  kept  boring  along  with  his  head  down,  so 
that  my  heart  was  almost  broke  in  keeping  him  upon  his  legs. 
I’m  sure  I never  had  a more  fatiguing  march  in  the  whole  Pen- 
insula than  that  blessed  mile  and  a half ; but  every  misfortune 
has  an  end  at  last,  and  it  was  four  o’clock,  striking  by  the  col- 
lege clock,  as  we  reached  the  barracks.  After  knocking  a couple 


144 


BARRY  LORRE  QUER . 


of  times,  and  giving  the  countersign,  the  sentry  opened  th& 
small  wicket,  and  my  heart  actually  leaped  with  joy  that  I had 
done  with  my  friend ; so  I just  called  out  the  sergeant  of  the 
guard,  and  said,  4 Will  you  put  that  poor  fellow  on  the  guard-bed 
till  morning,  for  I found  him  on  the  common,  and  he  could 
neither  find  his  way  home  nor  tell  me  where  he  lived.’  4 And 
where  is  he  ? ’ said  the  sergeant.  4 He’s  outside  the  gate  there,’ 
said  I,  4 wet  to  the  skin,  and  shaking  as  if  he  had  the  ague.’ 
4 And  is  this  him  ? ’ said  the  sergeant,  as  we  went  outside.  4 It 
is,’  said  I ; 4 maybe  you  know  him  ? ’ 4 Maybe  I’ve  a guess,’ 

said  he,  bursting  into  a fit  of  laughing,  that  I thought  he’d  choke 
with.  4 Well,  sergeant,’  said  I,  4 1 always  took  you  for  a human 
man  ; but  if  that’s  the  way  you  treat  a fellow-creature  in  dis- 
tress  ’ 4 A fellow-creature  ! ’ said  he,  laughing  louder  than 

before.  4 Ay,  a fellow-creature,’  said  I — for  the  sergeant  was 
an  Orangeman — 4 and  if  he  differs  from  you  in  matters  of  reli- 
gion, sure  he’s  your  fellow-creature  still.’  4 Troth,  doctor,  I think 
there’s  another  trifling  difference  betune  us,’  said  he.  4 Damn 
your  politics,’  said  I ; 4 never  let  them  interfere  with  true  hu- 
manity.’ Wasn’t  I right,  major  ? 4 Take  good  care  of  him,  and 

here’s  half-a-crown  for  ye.’  So,  saying  these  words,  I steered 
along  by  the  barrack  wall,  and,  after  a little  groping  about,  got 
up  stairs  to  my  quarters,  when,  thanks  to  a naturally  good  con- 
stitution and  regular  habits  of  life,  I soon  fell  fast  asleep.” 

When  the  doctor  had  said  thus  much,  he  pushed  his  chair 
slightly  from  the  table,  and,  taking  off  his  wine,  looked  about 
him  with  the  composure  of  a man  who  has  brought  his  tale  to  a 
termination. 

44  Well,  but,  doctor,”  said  the  major,  44  you  are  surely  not  done. 
You  have  not  yet  told  us  who  your  interesting  friend  turned  out 
to  be.” 

44  That’s  the  very  thing,  then,  I’m  not  able  to  do.” 

44  But,  of  course,”  said  another,  44  your  story  does  not  end 
there.” 

44  And  where  the  devil  would  you  have  it  end  ? ” replied  he. 
44  Didn’t  I bring  my  hero  home,  and  go  asleep  afterwards  myself, 
and  then,  with  virtue  rewarded,  how  could  I finish  it  bet- 
ter ? ” 

44  Oh,  of  course ; but  still  you  have  not  accounted  for  a prin- 
cipal character  in  the  narrative,”  said  I. 

44  Exactly  so,”  said  Curzon.  uWe  were  all  expecting  some 
splendid  catastrophe  in  the  morning;  that  your  companion 
turned  out  to  be  the  Duke  of  Leinster,  at  least — or  perhaps  a 
rebel  general,  with  an  immense  price  upon  his  head.” 

44  Neither  the  one  nor  the  other,”  said  Fin,  drily. 


THE  A TRICALS. 


M5 


“ And  do  you  mean  to  say  there  never  was  any  clue  to  the 
discovery  of  him  ? ” 

“ The  entire  affair  is  wrapt  in  mystery  to  this  hour,”  said  he. 
“ There  was  a joke  about  it,  to  be  sure,  among  the  officers ; but 
the  North  Cork  never  wanted  something  to  laugh  at.” 

“ And  what  was  the  joke  ? ” said  several  voices  together. 

“ Just  a complaint  from  old  Mickey  Oulahan,  the  post-master, 
to  the  colonel  in  the  morning,  that  some  of  the  officers  took 
away  his  blind  mare  off  the  common,  and  that  the  letters  were 
late  in  consequence.” 

“ And  so,  doctor,”  called  out  seven  or  eight,  “your  friend 
turned  out  to  be ” 

“ Upon  my  conscience  they  said  so,  and  that  rascal,  the  ser- 
geant, would  take  his  oath  of  it ; but  my  own  impression  I’ll 
never  disclose  to  the  hour  of  my  death.” 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THEATRICALS. 

Our  seance  at  the  mess  that  night  was  a late  one,  for  after 
we  had  discussed  some  coopers  of  claret,  there  was  a very  gen- 
eral public  feeling  in  favor  of  a broiled  bone  and  some  devilled 
kidneys,  followed  by  a very  ample  bowl  of  bishop,  over  which 
simple  condiments  we  talked  “ green-room  ” till  near  the  break 
of  day. 

From  having  been  so  long  away  from  the  corps  I had  much 
to  learn  of  their  doings  and  intentions  to  do,  and  heard  with 
much  pleasure  that  they  possessed  an  exceedingly  handsome 
theatre,  well  stocked  with  scenery,  dresses,  and  decorations  ; 
that  they  were  at  the  pinnacle  of  public  estimation,  from  what 
they  had  already  accomplished,  and  calculated  on  the  result  of 
my  appearance  to  crown  them  with  honor.  I had,  indeed,  very 
little  choice  left  me  in  the  matter  ; for  not  only  had  they  booked 
me  for  a particular  part,  but  bills  were  already  in  circula- 
tion, and  sundry  little  three-cornered  notes  enveloping  them, 
were  sent  to  the  elite  of  the  surrounding  country,  setting  forth 
that  “ on  Friday  evening  the  committee  of  the  garrison  theatri- 
cals, intending  to  perform  a dress  rehearsal  of  The  Family  Party, 

request  the  pleasure  of  Mr. and  Mrs. -’s  company  on 

the  occasion.  Mr.  Lorrequer  will  undertake  the  part  of  Captain 
Beaugarde.  Supper  at  twelve.  An  answer  will  oblige.” 

The  sight  of  one  of  these  pleasant  little  epistles,  of  which  the 
10 


146 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


foregoing  is  a true  copy,  was  presented  to  me  as  a great  favor 
that  evening,  it  having  been  agreed  upon  that  I was  to  know 
nothing  of  their  high  and  mighty  resolves  till  the  following  morn- 
ing. It  was  to  little  purpose  that  I assured  them  all,  collectively 
and  individually,  that  of  Captain  Beaugarde  I absolutely  knew 
nothing — had  never  read  the  piece — nor  even  seen  it  performed. 
I felt,  too,  that  my  last  appearance  in  character  in  a “ Family 
Party  ” was  anything  but  successful ; and  I trembled  lest,  in 
the  discussion  of  the  subject,  some  confounded  allusion  to  my 
adventure  at  Cheltenham  might  come  out.  Happily  they  seemed 
all  ignorant  of  this  ; and  fearing  to  bring  conversation  in  any 
way  to  the  matter  of  my  late  travels,  I fell  in  with  their  humor, 
and  agreed  that  if  it  were  possible  in  the  limited  time  allowed 
me  to  manage  it — I had  but  four  days — I should  undertake  the 
character.  My  concurrence  failed  to  give  the  full  satisfaction  I 
expected,  and  they  so  habitually  did  what  they  pleased  with 
me,  that,  like  all  men  so  disposed,  I never  got  the  credit  for 
concession  which  a man  more  niggardly  of  his  services  may  al- 
ways command. 

“ To  be  sure  you  will  do  it,  Harry,”  said  the  major  ; “ why 
not  ? I could  learn  the  thing  myself  in  a couple  of  hours,  as 
for  that.” 

Now,  be  it  known  that  the  aforesaid  major  was  so  incorrigibly 
slow  of  study,  and  dull  of  comprehension,  that  he  had  been  suc- 
cessively degraded  at  our  theatrical  board  from  the  delivering 
of  a stage  message  to  the  office  of  check-taker. 

“ He’s  so  devilish  good  in  the  love  scene,”  said  the  junior 
ensign,  with  the  white  eyebrows.  “ I say,  Curzon,  you’ll  be 
confoundedly  jealous  though,  for  he  is  to  play  with  Fanny.” 

“ I rather  think  not,”  said  Curzon,  who  was  a little  tipsy. 

“ O yes,”  said  Frazer,  “ Hepton  is  right.  Lorrequer  has 
Fanny  for  his  premiere ; and,  upon  my  soul,  I should  feel  tempted 
to  take  the  part  myself  upon  the  same  terms ; though  I verily  be- 
lieve I should  forget  I was  acting,  and  make  fierce  love  to  her 
on  the  stage.” 

“ And  who  may  la  charmante  Fanny  be  ? ” said  I,  with  some- 
thing of  the  air  of  the  “ Dey  of  Algiers  ” in  my  tone. 

“ Let  Curzon  tell  him,”  said  several  voices  together;  “ he  is 
the  only  man  to  do  justice  to  such  perfection.” 

“ Quiz  awav,  my  merry  men,”  said  Curzon  ; “ all  I know  is, 
that  you  a rea  confoundedly  envious  set  of  fellows  ; and  if  so 
lovely  a girl  had  thrown  her  eyes  on  one  amongst  you ” 

“ Hip  ! hip  ! hurrah  ! ” said  old  Fitzgerald,  “ Curzon  is  a gone 
man.  He’ll  be  off  to  the  palace  for  a license  some  fine  morn- 
ing, or  I know  nothing  of  such  matters,” 


THE  A TRICALS. 


*47 


“Well,  but,”  said  I,  “if  matters  are  really  as  you  all  say,  why 
does  not  Curzon  take  the  part  you  destine  for  me  ? ” 

“We  dare  not  trust  him,”  said  the  major;  “Lord  bless  you, 
when  the  call-boy  would  sing  out  for  Captain  Beaugarde  in  the 
second  act,  we’d  find  he  had  levanted  with  our  best  slashed 
trousers,  and  a bird-of-paradise  feather  in  his  cap.” 

“ Well,”  thought  I,  “ this  is  better  at  least  than  I anticipated, 
for  if  nothing  else  offers,  I shall  have  rare  fun  teasing  my  friend 
Charley,” — for  it  was  evident  that  he  had  been  caught  by  the 
lady  in  question. 

“ And  so  you’ll  stay  with  us  ; give  me  your  hand — you  are  a 
real  trump.”  These  words,  which  proceeded  from  a voice  at 
the  lower  end  of  the  table,  were  addressed  to  my  friend  Finu- 
cane. 

“ I’ll  stay  with  ye,  upon  my  conscience,”  said  Fin  ; “ye  have 
a most  seductive  way  about  ye,  and  a very  superior  taste  in  milk 
punch.” 

“ But,  doctor,”  said  I,  “ you  must  not  be  a drone  in  the  hive ; 
what  will  you  do  for  us  ? You  should  be  a capital  Sir  Lucius 
O’Trigger,  if  we  could  get  up  The  Rivals .” 

“ My  forte  is  the  drum — the  big  drum  ; put  me  among  what 
the  Greeks  call  the  ‘mousikoi,’  and  I’ll  astonish  ye.” 

It  was  at  once  agreed  that  Fin  should  follow  the  bent  of  his 
genius  ; and  after  some  other  arrangements  for  the  rest  of  the 
party,  we  separated  for  the  night,  having  previously  toasted  the 
“ Fanny,”  to  which  Curzon  attempted  to  reply,  but  sank,  over- 
powered by  punch  and  feelings,  and  looked  unutterable  things, 
without  the  power  to  frame  a sentence. 

During  the  time  which  intervened  between  the  dinner  and  the 
night  appointed  for  our  rehearsal,  I had  more  business  upon 
my  hands  than  a Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  the  week  of  the 
budget  being  produced.  The  whole  management  of  every  de- 
partment fell,  as  usual,  to  my  share,  and  all  those  who,  previously 
to  my  arrival,  had  contributed  their  quota  of  labor,  did  nothing 
whatever  now  but  lounge  about  the  stage,  or  sit  half  the  day  in 
the  orchestra,  listening  to  some  confounded  story  of  Finucane’s, 
who  contrived  to  have  an  everlasting  mob  of  actors,  scene-paint- 
ers, fiddlers,  and  call-boys  always  about  him,  who,  from  their 
uproarious  mirth,  and  repeated  shouts  of  merriment,  nearly  drove 
me  distracted,  as  I stood  almost  alone  and  unassisted  in  the 
whole  management.  Of  la  belle  Fanny,  all  I learned  was,  that 
she  was  a professional  actress  of  very  considerable  talent,  and 
extremely  pretty ; that  Curzon  had  fallen  desperately  in  love 
with  her  the  only  night  she  had  appeared  on  the  boards  there  ; 
and  that,  to  avoid  his  absurd  persecution  of  her,  she  had  de* 


148 


HARRY  L ORREQUER. 


termined  not  to  come  into  town  until- the  morning  of  the  rehear- 
sal, she  being  at  that  time  on  a visit  to  the  house  of  a country 
gentleman  in  the  neighborhood.  Here  was  a new  difficulty  I 
had  to  contend  with — to  go  through  my  part  alone  was  out  of 
the  question  to  making  it  effective ; and  I felt  so  worried  and 
harassed,  that  I often  fairly  resolved  on  taking  the  wings  of  the 
mail,  and  flying  away  to  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  south  of  Ire- 
land, till  all  was  still  and  tranquil  again.  By  degrees,  however, 
I got  matters  into  better  train,  and  by  getting  over  our  rehear- 
sal early  before  Fin  appeared,  as  he  usually  slept  somewhat  later 
after  his  night  at  mess,  I managed  to  have  things  in  something 
like  order ; he  and  his  confounded  drum,  which,  whenever  he 
was  not  story-telling,  he  was  sure  to  be  practising  on,  being,  in 
fact,  the  greatest  difficulties  opposed  to  my  managerial  functions. 
One  property  he  possessed,  so  totally  at  variance  with  all  habits 
of  order,  that  it  completely  baffled  me.  So  numerous  were  his 
narratives,  that  no  occasion  could  possibly  arise,  no  chance  ex- 
pression be  let  fall  on  the  stage,  but  Fin  had  something  he 
deemed  a propos , and  which,  sans  fa$on , he  at  once  related  for 
the  benefit  of  all  whom  it  might  concern  ; that  was  usually  the 
entire  corps  dramatique , who  eagerly  turned  from  stage  direc- 
tions and  groupings,  to  laugh  at  his  ridiculous  jests.  I shall 
give  an  instance  of  this  habit  of  interruption,  and  let  the  un 
happy  wight  who  has  filled  such  an  office  as  mine  pity  my  woes. 

I was  standing  one  morning  on  the  stage,  drilling  my  corps  as 
usual.  One  most  refractory  spirit,  to  whom  but  a few  words 
were  entrusted,  and  who  bungled  even  those,  I was  endeavor- 
ing to  train  into  something  like  his  part. 

44  Come,  now,  Elsmore,  try  it  again — just  so.  Yes,  come  for- 
ward in  this  manner — take  her  hand  tenderly — press  it  to  your 
lips  ; retreat  towards  the  flat,  and  then  bowing  deferentially — 
thus,  say  4 Good-night,  good-night , ’ that’s  very  simple,  eh  ? 
Well,  now,  that’s  all  you  have  to  do,  and  that  brings  you  over 
here  ; so  you  make  your  exit  at  once.” 

44  Exactly  so,  Mr.  Elsmore  ; always  contrive  to  be  near  the 
door  under  such  circumstances.  That  was  the  way  with  my 
poor  friend  Curran.  Poor  Philpot,  when  he  dined  with  the 
Guild  of  Merchant  Tailors,  they  gave  him  a gold  box,  with  their 
arms  upon  it — a goose  proper,  with  needles  saltier-wise,  or 
something  of  that  kind  ; and  they  made  him  free  of  their  4 ancient 
And  loyal  corporation,’  and  gave  him  a very  grand  dinner.  Well, 
Curran  was  mighty  pleasant  and  agreeable,  and  kept  them 
laughing  all  night,  till  the  moment  he  rose  to  go  away,  and  then 
he  told  them  that  he  never  spent  so  happy  an  evening,  and  all 
that.  4 But,  gentlemen,’  said  he,  4 business  has  its  calls  ; I must 


THE  A TR/CALS. 


149 


tear  myself  away  ; so  wishing  you  now  ' — there  were  just  eight- 
een of  them — 4 wishing  you  now  every  happiness  and  prosperity, 
permit  me  to  take  my  leave  ’ — and  here  he  stole  near  the  door — 
‘ to  take  my  leave,  and  bid  you  both  good-night.'  ” With  a run- 
ning fire  of  such  stories,  it  may  be  supposed  how  difficult  was 
my  task  in  getting  anything  done  upon  the  stage. 

Well,  at  last  the  long-expected  Friday  arrived,  and  I rose  in 
the  morning  with  all  that  peculiar  tourbillon  of  spirits  that  a 
man  feels  when  he  is  half  pleased  and  whole  frightened  with  the 
labor  before  him.  I had  scarcely  accomplished  dressing  when 
a servant  tapped  at  my  door,  and  begged  to  know  if  I could 
spare  a few  moments  to  speak  to  Miss  Ersler,  who  was  in  the 
drawing-room.  I replied,  of  course,  in  the  affirmative,  and, 
rightly  conjecturing  that  my  fair  friend  must  be  the  lovely 
Fanny  already  alluded  to,  followed  the  servant  down  stairs. 

44  Mr.  Lorrequer,”  said  the  servant,  and,  closing  the  door  be- 
hind me,  left  me  in  sole  possession  of  the  lady. 

44  Will  you  do  me  the  favor  to  sit  here,  Mr.  Lorrequer  ? ” said 
one  of  the  sweetest  voices  in  the  world,  as  she  made  room  for 
me  on  the  sofa  beside  her.  44 1 am  particularly  short-sighted  ; so 
pray  sit  near  me,  as  I really  cannot  talk  to  any  one  I don’t 
see.” 

I blundered  out  some  platitude  of  a compliment  to  her  eyes — 
the  fullest  and  most  lovely  blue  that  ever  man  gazed  into — at 
which  she  smiled  as  if  pleased,  and  continued,  44  Now,  Mr.  Lor- 
requer, I have  really  been  longing  for  your  coming  ; for  your 
friends  of  the  4 — th  are  doubtless  very  dashing,  spirited  young 
gentlemen,  perfectly  versed  in  war’s  alarms  ; but  pardon  me  if 
I say  that  a more  wretched  company  of  strolling  wretches  never 
graced  a barn.  Now,  come,  don’t  be  angry,  but  let  me  proceed. 
Like  all  amateur  people,  they  have  the  happy  knack,  in  distribut- 
ing the  characters,  to  put  every  man  in  his  most  unsuitable  po- 
sition ; and  then  that  poor  dear  thing,  Curzon — I hope  he’s  not 
a friend  of  yours — by  some  dire  fatality  always  plays  the  lovers4 
parts,  ha!  ha  ! ha!  True,  I assure  you,  so  that  if  you  had  not 
been  announced  as  coming  this  week,  I should  have  left  them 
and  gone  off  to  Bath.” 

Here  she  rose  and  adjusted  her  brown  ringlets  at  the  glass, 
giving  me  ample  time  to  admire  one  of  the  most  perfect  figures 
I ever  beheld.  She  was  most  becomingly  dressed,  and  betrayed 
a foot  and  ankle  which  for  symmetry  and  44  smallness  ” might 
have  challenged  the  Rue  Rivoli  itself  to  match  it. 

My  first  thought  was  poor  Curzon  ; my  second,  happy  and 
thrice  fortunate  Harry  Lorrequer.  There  was  no  time,  however, 
for  indulgence  in  such  very  pardonable  gratulation  ; so  I at 


150 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


once  proceeded  pour  faire  T aimable , to  profess  my  utter  inability 
to  do  justice  to  her  undoubted  talents,  but  slily  added  “ that  in 
the  love-making  part  of  the  matter  she  should  never  be  able  to 
discover  that  I was  not  in  earnest.”  We  chatted  then  gayly  for 
upwards  of  an  hour,  until  the  arrival  of  her  friend’s  carriage  was 
announced,  when,  tendering  me  most  graciously  her  hand,  she 
smiled  benignly,  and  saying,  “ Au  revoir , done,”  drove  off. 

As  I stood  upon  the  steps  of  the  hotel,  viewing  her  “ out  of 
the  visible  horizon,”  I was  joined  by  Curzon,  who  evidently, 
from  his  self-satisfied  air  and  jaunty  gait,  little  knew  how  he 
stood  in  the  fair  Fanny’s  estimation. 

“ Very  pretty,  very  pretty,  indeed,  deeper,  and  deeper  still,” 
cried  he,  alluding  to  my  most  courteous  salutation  as  the  carriage 
rounded  the  corner,  and  its  lovely  occupant  kissed  her  hand 
once  more.  “ I say,  Harry,  my  friend,  you  don’t  think  that  was 
meant  for  you,  I should  hope  ? ” 

•‘What ! the  kiss  of  the  hand?  Yes,  faith,  but  I do.” 

“Well,  certainly  that  is  good!  why,  man,  she  just  saw  me 
coming  up  that  instant.  She  and  I — we  understand  each  othe> 
— never  mind,  don’t  be  cross — no  fault  of  yours,  you  know.” 

“ Ah,  so  she  is  taken  with  you,”  said  I.  “ Eh,  Charley  ? ” 
“Why,  I believe  that.  I may  confess  to  you  the  real  state  oh 
matters.  She  was  devilishly  struck  with  me  the  first  time  we 
rehearsed  together.  We  soon  got  up  a little  flirtation  ; but  the 
other  night,  when  I played  Mirabel  to  her,  it  finished  the  affair. 
She  was  quite  nervous,  and  could  scarcely  go  through  with  her 
part.  I saw  it,  and  upon  my  soul  I am  sorry  for  it ; she’s  a pro- 
digiously fine  girl — such  lips  and  such  teeth  ! Egad,  I was  de- 
lighted when  you  came ; for  you  see,  I was  in  a manner  obliged 
to  take  one  line  of  character,  and  I saw  pretty  plainly  where  it 
must  end;  and  you  know  with  you  it’s  quite  different;  she’ll 
laugh  and  chat,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  but  she’ll  not  be  carried 
away  by  her  feelings  ; you  understand  me.” 

“ Oh,  perfectly ; it’s  quite  different,  as  you  observed.” 

If  I had  not  been  supported  internally  during  this  short  dia- 
logue by  the  recently  expressed  opinion  of  the  dear  Fanny  her- 
self upon  my  friend  Curzon’s  merits,  I think  I should  have  been 
tempted  to  take  the  liberty  of  wringing  his  neck  off.  However, 
the  affair  was  much  better  as  it  stood,  as  I had  only  to  wait  a 
little  with  proper  patience,  and  I had  no  fears  but  that  my  friend, 
Charley,  would  become  the  hero  of  a very  pretty  episode  for 
the  mess. 

“ So  I suppose  you  must  feel  considerably  bored  by  this  kind 
of  thing,”  I said,  endeavoring  to  draw  him  out. 

“Why,  I do,”  replied  he.  “and  I do  not.  The  girl  is  ver; 


THEATRICALS. 


i S* 

pretty.  The  place  is  dull  in  the  morning;  and  altogether  it 
nelps  to  fill  up  time.” 

“Well,”  said  I,  “you  are  always  fortunate,  Curzon.  You 
have  ever  your  share  of  what  floating  luck  the  world  affords.” 

“ It  is  not  exactly  all  luck,  my  dear  friend ; for,  as  I shall 
explain  to  you ” 

“Not  now,”  replied  I,  “for  I have  not  yet  breakfasted.”  So 
saying,  I turned  into  the  coffee-room,  leaving  the  worthy  adju- 
tant to  revel  in  his  fancied  conquest,  and  pity  such  unfortunates 
as  myself. 

After  an  early  dinner  at  the  club-house,  I hastened  down  to 
the  theatre,  where  numerous  preparations  for  the  night  were  go- 
ing forward.  The  green-room  was  devoted  to  the  office  of  a 
supper-room,  to  which  the  audience  had  been  invited.  The  dress- 
ing-rooms were  many  of  them  filled  with  the  viands  destined  for 
th  e entertainment,  where,  among  the  wooden  fowls  and  “ imprac- 
ticable ” flagons,  were  to  be  seen  very  imposing  pasties  and 
ftasks  of  champagne,  littered  together  in  most  admirable  disor- 
der. The  confusion  naturally  incidental  to  all  private  theatricals 
was  tenfold  increased  by  the  circumstances  of  our  projected  sup- 
per. Cooks  and  scene-shifters,  fiddlers  and  waiters,  were  most 
inextricably  mingled ; and,  as  in  all  similar  cases,  the  least  im- 
portant functionaries  took  the  greatest  airs  upon  them,  and  ap- 
propriated without  hesitation  whatever  came  to  their  hands — 
Ihus,  the  cook  would  not  have  scrupled  to  light  a fire  with  a vio- 
loncello of  the  orchestra;  and  I actually  caught  one  of  the 
( marmitons  ” making  a “souffle  ” in  a brass  helmet  I had  once 
worn  when  astonishing  the  world  as  Coriolanus. 

Six  o’clock  struck.  “ In  another  short  hour  and  we  begin,” 
thought  I,  with  a sinking  heart,  as  I looked  upon  the  littered 
stage  crowded  with  hosts  of  fellows  that  had  nothing  to  do  there. 
Figaro  himself  never  wished  for  ubiquity  more  than  I did,  as  I 
hastened  from  place  to  place,  entreating,  cursing,  begging, 
scolding,  execrating,  and  imploring  by  turns.  To  mend  the 
matter,  the  devils  in  the  orchestra  had  begun  to  tune  their  in- 
struments, and  I had  to  bawl  like  a boatswain  of  a man-of-war  to 
be  heard  by  the  person  beside  me. 

As  seven  o’clock  struck,  I peeped  through  the  small  aperture 
in  the  curtain,  and  saw,  to  my  satisfaction — mingled,  I confess, 
with  fear — that  the  house  was  nearly  filled,  the  lower  tier  of 
boxes  entirely  so.  There  were  a great  many  ladies  handsomely 
dressed,  chatting  gayly  with  their  chaperons,*  and  I recognized 
some  of  my  acquaintances  on  every  side ; in  fact,  there  was 
scarcely  a family  of  rank  in  the  county  that  had  not  at  least 
some  member  of  it  present.  As  the  orchestra  struck  up  the 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


IS* 

overture  to  Don  Giovanni,  I retired  from  my  place  to  inspect  an 
rangements  from  behind. 

Before  the  performance  of  The  Family  Party  we  were  to 
have  a little  one-act  piece,  called  A Day  in  Madrid,  written  by 
myself — the  principal  characters  being  expressly  composed  for 
“ Miss  Ersler  and  Mr.  Lorrequer.” 

The  story  of  this  trifle  it  is  not  necessary  to  allude  to ; indeed, 
if  it  were,  I should  scarcely  have  patience  to  do  so,  so  connected 
is  my  recollection  of  it  with  the  distressing  incident  which  fol- 
lowed. 

In  the  first  scene  of  the  piece,  the  curtain  rising  displays  la 
belle  Fanny  sitting  at  her  embroidery  in  the  midst  of  a beautiful 
garden,  surrounded  with  statues,  fountains,  etc. ; at  the  back  is 
seen  a pavilion  in  the  ancient  Moorish  style  of  architecture, 
over  which  hang  the  branches  of  some  large  and  shady  trees — 
she  comes  forward,  expressing  her  impatience  at  the  delay  of 
her  lover,  whose  absence  she  tortures  herself  to  account  for  by 
a hundred  different  suppositions,  and  after  a very  sufficient 
expose'  of  her  feelings,  and  some  little  explanatory  details  of  her 
private  history,  conveying  a very  clear  intimation  of  her  own 
amiability  and  her  guardian’s  cruelty,  she  proceeds,  after  the 
fashion  of  other  young  ladies  similarly  situated,  to  give  ut- 
terance to  her  feelings  by  a song  ; after,  therefore,  a suitable  pre- 
lude from  the  orchestra,  for  which,  considering  the  impassioned 
state  of  her  mind,  she  waits  patiently,  she  comes  forward  and 
begins  a melody, — 

“ Oh,  why  is  he  far  from  the  heart  that  adores  him  ? ” 

in  which,  for  two  verses,  she  proceeds  with  sundry  sol feggi  to  ac- 
count for  the  circumstances,  and  show  her  own  disbelief  of  the 
explanation  in  a very  satisfactory  manner, — meanwhile,  for  I 
must  not  expose  my  reader  to  an  anxiety  on  my  account,  simi- 
lar to  what  the  dear  Fanny  here  labored  under,  I was  mak- 
ing the  necessary  preparations  for  flying  to  her  presence,  and 
clasping  her  to  my  heart — that  is  to  say,  I had  already  gummed 
on  a pair  of  mustachios,  had  corked  and  arched  a ferocious 
pair  of  eyebrows,  which,  with  my  rouged  cheeks,  gave  me  a look 
half  Whiskerando,  half  Grimaldi;  these  operations  were  per- 
formed, from  the  stress  of  circumstances,  sufficiently  near  the 
object  of  my  affections  to  afford  me  the  pleasing  satisfaction  of 
hearing  from  her  own  sweet  lips  her  solicitude  about  me — in  a 
word,  all  the  dressing-rooms  but  two  being  filled  with  hampers 
of  provisions,  glass,  china,  and  crockery,  and  from  absolute 
necessity,  I had  no  other  spot  where  I could  attire  myself  un- 


THE  WAGER. 


153 


seen,  except  in  the  identical  pavilion  already  alluded  to.  Here, 
however,  I was  quite  secure,  and  had  abundant  time  also,  for  I 
was  not  to  appear  till  scene  the  second,  when  I was  to  come  for- 
ward in  full  Spanish  costume,  “ every  inch  a hidalgo.”  Mean- 
time, Fanny  had  been  singing — 

“Oh,  why  is  he  far,”  etc.,  etc. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  last  verse,  just  as  she  repeats  the  words 
“ Why,  why,  why,”  in  a very  distracted  and  melting  cadence,  a 
voice  behind  startles  her — she  turns  and  beholds  her  guardian 
— so  at  least  run  the  course  of  events  in  the  real  drama — that  it 
should  follow  thus  now,  however,  Diis  aliter  visum — for  just  as 
she  came  to  the  very  moving  apostrophe  alluded  to,  and  called 
out,  “ Why  comes  he  not?  ” — a gruff  voice  from  behind  answered 
in  a strong  Cork  brogue,  “ Ah  ! would  ye  have  him  come  in  a state 
of  nature  ? ” At  the  instant  a loud  whistle  ran  through  the  house, 
and  the  pavilion  scene  slowly  drew  up,  discovering  me,  Harry 
Lorrequer,  seated  on  a small  stool  before  a cracked  looking-glass, 
my  only  habiliments,  as  I am  an  honest  man,  being  a pair  of  long 
white  silk  stockings,  and  a very  richly  embroidered  shirt  with 
point-lace  collar.  The  shouts  of  laughter  are  yet  in  my  ears, 
the  loud  roar  of  inextinguishable  mirth,  which,  after  the  first 
brief  pause  of  astonishment  gave  way,  shook  the  entire  build- 
ing — my  recollection  may  well  have  been  confused  at  such  a 
moment  of  unutterable  shame  and  misery  ; yet,  I clearly  remem- 
ber seeing  Fanny,  the  sweet  Fanny  herself,  fall  into  an  armchair 
nearly  suffocated  with  convulsions  of  laughter.  I cannot  go  on  ; 
what  I did  I know  not.  I suppose  my  exit  was  additionally  lu- 
dicrous, for  a new  eclat  de  rire  followed  me  out.  I rushed  out  of 
the  theatre,  and  wrapping  only  my  cloak  round  me  ran  without 
stopping  to  the  barracks.  But  I must  cease ; these  are  woes  too 
sacred  for  even  “ Confessions  ” like  mine,  so  let  me  close  the 
curtain  of  my  room  and  my  chapter  together,  and  say  adieu  for 
a season. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE  WAGER. 

It  might  have  been  about  six  weeks  after  the  events  detailed 
in  my  last  chapter  had  occurred,  that  Curzon  broke  suddenly 
into  my  room  one  morning  before  I had  risen,  and  throwing  a 


1 54 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


precautionary  glance  around,  as  if  to  assure  himself  that  we 
were  alone,  seized  my  hand  with  a most  unusual  earnestness, 
and,  steadfastly  looking  at  me,  said, — 

“ Harry  Lorrequer,  will  you  stand  by  me  ? ” 

So  sudden  and  unexpected  was  his  appearance  at  the  moment, 
that  I really  felt  but  half  awake,  and  kept  puzzling  myself  for 
an  explanation  of  the  scene,  rather  than  thinking  of  a reply  to 
his  question  ; perceiving  which,  and  auguring  but  badly  from  my 
silence,  he  continued, — 

“ Am  I,  then,  really  deceived  in  what  I believed  to  be  an  old 
and  tried  friend  ? ” 

“ Why,  what  the  deviPs  the  matter  ? ” I cried  out.  “ If  you 
are  in  a scrape  why  of  course  you  know  I’m  your  man  ; but,  still, 
it’s  only  fair  to  let  one  know  something  of  the  matter  in  the 
mean  while.” 

“ In  a scrape  ? ” said  he,  with  a long-drawn  sigh,  intended  to 
beat  the  whole  Minerva  press  in  its  romantic  cadence. 

“ Well,  but  get  on  a bit,”  said  I,  rather  impatiently ; “ who  is 
the  fellow  you’ve  got  the  row  with  ? Not  one  of  ours,  I trust  ? ” 

“Ah,  my  dear  Hal,”  said  he,  in  the  same  melting  tone  as  be- 
fore, “ how  your  imagination  does  run  upon  rows,  and  broils, 
and  duelling  rencontres  ” (he,  the  speaker,  be  it  known  to  the 
reader,  was  the  fire-eater  of  the  regiment),  “ as  if  life  had  noth- 
ing better  to  offer  than  the  excitement  of  a challenge,  or  the 
mock  heroism  of  a meeting.” 

As  he  made  a dead  pause  here,  after  which  he  showed  no  dis- 
position to  continue,  I merely  added, — 

“ Well,  at  this  rate  of  proceeding,  we  shall  get  at  the  matter 
in  hand  on  our  way  out  to  Corfu,  for  I hear  we  are  the  next  reg- 
iment for  the  Mediterranean.” 

The  observation  seemed  to  have  some  effect  in  rousing  him 
from  his  lethargy,  and  he  added,— 

“ If  you  only  knew  the  nature  of  the  attachment,  and  how 
completely  all  my  future  hopes  are  concerned  upon  the  is- 


“Ho!”  said  I,  “so  it’s  a money  affair,  is  it?  and  is  it  old 
Watson  has  issued  the  writ  ? I’ll  bet  a hundred  on  it.” 

“ Well,  upon  my  soul,  Lorrequer,”  said  he,  jumping  from  his 
chair,  and  speaking  with  more  energy  than  he  had  before 
evinced,  “you  are,  without  exception,  the  most  worldly-minded, 
cold-blooded  fellow  I ever  met.  What  have  I said  that  could 
have  led  you  to  suppose  I had  either  a duel  or  a law-suit  upon 
my  hands  this  morning  ? Learn,  once  and  for  all,  man,  that  I 
am  in  love — desperately  and  over  head  and  ears  in  love.” 

“ E poi  ? ” said  I,  coolly. 


7 HE  WAGER. 


*55 


“ And  intend  to  marry  immediately.” 

“ Oh,  very  well,”  said  I;  “the  fighting  and  debt  will  come 
later,  that's  all.  But  to  return — now  for  the  lady.” 

“ Come,  you  must  make  a guess.” 

“Why,  then,  I really  must  confess  my  utter  inability , for  your 
attentions  have  been  so  generally  and  impartially  distributed 
since  our  arrival  here,  that  it  may  be  any  fair  one,  from  your 
venerable  partner  at  whist  last  evening,  to  Mrs.  Henderson,  the 
pastrycook,  inclusive,  for  whose  macaroni  and  cherry-brandy 
your  feelings  have  been  as  warm  as  they  are  constant.” 

“ Come,  no  more  quizzing,  Hal.  You  surely  must  have  re- 
marked that  lovely  girl  I*  waltzed  with  at  Power’s  ball  on  Tues- 
day last.” 

“ Lovely  girl ! Why,  in  all  seriousness,  you  don’t  mean  the 
small  woman  with  the  tow  wig  ? ” 

“ No,  I do  not  mean  any  such  thing — but  a beautiful  creature, 
with  the  brightest  locks  in  Christendom — the  very  light-brown 
waving  ringlets  Domenichino  loved  to  paint,  and  a foot — did 
you  see  her  foot  ? ” # 

“No  ; that  was  rather  difficult,  for  she  kept  continually  bob- 
bing up  and  down,  like  a boy’s  cork-float  in  a fishpond.” 

“ Stop  there.  I shall  not  permit  this  any  longer — I came  not 
here  to  listen  to ” 

“ But,  Curzon,  my  boy,  you’re  not  angry  ? ” 

“ Yes,  sir,  I am  angry.” 

“ Why,  surely,  you  have  not  been  serious  all  this  time  ? ” 

“ And  why  not,  pray  ? ” 

“ Oh  ! I don’t  exactly  know — that  is,  faith,  I scarcely  thought 
you  were  in  earnest,  for  if  I did  of  course  I should  honestly 
have  confessed  to  you  that  the  lady  in  question  struck  me  as 
one  of  the  handsomest  persons  I ever  met.” 

“ Yon  think  so  really,  Hal  ? ” 

“ Certainly  I do,  and  the  opinion  is  not  mine  alone  ; she  is, 
in  fact,  universally  admired.” 

“ Come,  Harry,  excuse  my  bad  temper.  I ought  to  have 
known  you  better — give  me  your  hand,  old  boy,  and  wish  me 
joy,  for  with  your  aiding  she  is  mine  to-morrow  morning.” 

I wrung  his  hand  heartily — congratulating  myself,  meanwhile, 
how  happily  I had  got  out  of  my  scrape ; as  I now,  for  the  first 
time,  perceived  that  Curzon  was  actually  in  earnest. 

“ So  you  will  stand  by  me,  Hal  ? ” said  he. 

“ Of  course.  Only  show  me  how,  and  I’m  perfectly  at  your 
service.  Anything  from  riding  postilion  on  the  leaders  to  offi- 
ciating as  bridesmaid,  and  I am  your  man.  And  if  you  are  in 
want  of  such  a functionary  I shall  stand  in  loco  parentis  to  the 


156 


HARRY  LORRE  QUER. 


lady,  and  give  her  away  with  as  much  onction  and  tenderness  as 
though  I had  as  many  marriageable  daughters  as  King  Priam 
himself.  It  is  with  me,  in  marriage  as  in  duelling — I’ll  be  any- 
thing rather  than  a principal ; and  I have  long  since  disapproved 
of  either  method  as  a means  of  4 obtaining  satisfaction.’  ” 

“ Ah,  Harry,  I shall  not  be  discouraged  by  your  sneers. 
You’ve  been  rather  unlucky,  I’m  aware  ; but  now  to  return. 
Your  office,  on  this  occasion,  is  an  exceedingly  simple  one,  and 
yet  that  which  I could  only  confide  to  one  as  much  my  friend 
as  yourself.  You  must  carry  my  dearest  Louisa  off.” 

“ Carry  her  off  ! Where  ? — when  ? — how  ? ” 

“ All  that  I have  already  arranged,  as  you  shall  hear.” 

“ Yes.  But  first  of  all  please  to  explain  why,  if  going  to  run 
away  with  the  lady,  you  don’t  accompany  her  yourself.” 

“ Ah  ! I knew  you  would  say  that : I could  have  laid  a wager 
you’d  ask  that  question,  for  it  is  just  that  very  explanation  will 
show  all  the  native  delicacy  and  feminine  propriety  of  my  dar- 
ling Loo ; and  first,  I must  tell  you,  that  old  Sir  Alfred  Jonson, 
her  father,  has  some  confounded  prejudice  against  the  army, 
and  never  would  consent  to  her  marriage  with  a red-coat ; so 
that,  his  consent  being  out  of  the  question,  our  only  resource  is 
an  elopement.  Louisa  consents  to  this,  but  only  upon  one  con- 
dition, and  this  she  insists  upon  so  firmly — I had  almost  said 
obstinately — that,  notwithstanding  all  my  arguments  and  repre- 
sentations, and  even  entreaties  against  it,  she  remains  inflexible  ; 
so  that  I have  at  length  yielded,  and  she  is  to  have  her  own 
way.” 

“ Well,  and  what  is  the  condition  she  lays  such  stress  upon  ? ” 
“ Simply  this,  that  we  are  never  to  travel  a mile  together  un- 
til I obtain  my  right  to  do  so  by  making  her  my  wife.  She  has 
got  some  trumpery  notions  in  her  head  that  any  slight  transgres- 
sion over  the  bounds  of  delicacy  made  by  women  before  mar- 
riage is  ever  after  remembered  by  the  husband  to  their  disadvan- 
tage, and  she  is  therefore  resolved  not  to  sacrifice  her  principle 
even  at  such  a crisis  as  the  present.” 

“All  very  proper,  I have  no  doubt;  but  still,  pray  explain 
what  I confess  appears  somewhat  strange  to  me  at  present. 
How  does  so  very  delicately-minded  a person  reconcile  herself 
to  travelling  with  a perfect  stranger  under  such  circumstances  ? ” 
“ That  I can  explain  perfectly  to  you.  You  must  know  that 
when  my  darling  Loo  consented  to  take  this  step,  which  I induced 
her  to  do  with  the  greatest  difficulty,  she  made  the  proviso  I 
have  just  mentioned  ; I at  once  showed  her  that  I had  no 
maiden  aunt  or  married  sister  to  confide  her  to  at  such  a mo- 
ment, and  what  was  to  be  done  ? She  immediately  replied, 


THE  WAGER. 


*57 


4 Have  you  no  elderly  brother  officer,  whose  years  and  discretion 
will  put  the  transaction  in  such  a light  as  to  silence  the  slander- 
ous tongues  of  the  world,  for  with  such  a man  I am  quite  ready 
and  willing  to  trust  myself.’  You  see  I was  hard  pushed  there. 
What  could  I do  ? — whom  could  I select  ? Old  Hayes,  the  pay- 
master, is  always  tipsy;  Jones  is  five-and-forty — but  still,  if  he 
found  out  there  was  thirty  thousand  pounds  in  the  case,  egad  ! 
I’m  not  so  sure  I’d  have  found  my  betrothed  at  the  end  of  the 
stage.  You  were  my  only  hope  : I knew  I could  rely  upon  you. 
You  would  carry  on  the  whole  affair  with  tact  and  discretion  : 
and  as  to  age,  your  stage  experience  would  enable  you,  with  a 
little  assistance  from  costume,  to  pass  muster ; besides  that,  I 
have  always  represented  you  as  the  very  Methuselah  of  the 
corps  ; and  in  the  gray  dawn  of  an  autumnal  morning — with 
maiden  bashfulness  assisting — the  scrutiny  is  not  likely  to  be  a 
close  one.  So  now,  your  consent  is  alone  wanting  to  complete 
the  arrangements  which,  before  this  time  to-morrow,  shall  have 
made  me  the  happiest  of  mortals.’’ 

Having  expressed,  in  fitting  terms,  my  full  sense  of  obligation 
for  the  delicate  flattery  with  which  he  pictured  me  as  “ Old  Lor- 
requer  ” to  the  lady,  I begged  a more  detailed  account  of  his 
plan,  which  I shall  shorten  for  my  reader’s  sake,  by  the  follow- 
ing brief  expose . 

* A post-chaise  and  four  was  to  be  in  waiting  at  five  o’clock  in 
the  morning  to  convey  me  to  Sir  Alfred’s  Jonson’s  residence, 
about  twelve  miles  distant.  There  I was  to  be  met  by  a lady  at 
the  gate-lodge,  who  was  subsequently  to  accompany  me  to  a small 
village  on  the  Nore,  where  an  old  college  friend  of  Curzon’s  hap- 
pened to  reside  as  parson,  and  by  whom  the  treaty  was  to  be 
concluded. 

This  was  all  simple  and  clear  enough — the  only  condition 
necessary  to  insure  success  being  punctuality,  particularly  on  the 
lady’s  part.  As  to  mine,  I readily  promised  my  best  aid  and 
warmest  efforts  in  my  friend’s  behalf. 

“There  is  only  one  thing  more,”  said  Curzon.  41  Louisa’s 
younger  brother  is  a devilish  hot-headed,  wild  sort  of  a fellow  ; 
and  it  would  be  as  well,  just  for  precaution’s  sake,  to  have  your 
pistols  along  with  you,  if,  by  any  chance,  he  should  make  out 
what  was  going  forward — not  but  that  you  know  if  anything  seri- 
ous was  to  take  place,  I should  be  the  person  to  take  all  that 
upon  my  hands.” 

“ Oh  ! of  course — I understand,”  said  I.  Meanwhile  I could 
not  help  running  over  in  my  mind  the  pleasant  possibilities  such 
an  adventure  presented,  heartily  wishing  that  Curzon  had  been 
content  to  marry  by  banns,  or  any  other  of  the  legitimate  modes 


HARR  V L ORREQUER. 


158 

in  use,  without  risking  his  friend’s  bones.  The  other  pros  and 
cons  of  the  matter,  with  full  and  accurate  directions  as  to  the 
road  to  be  taken  on  obtaining  possession  of  the  lady,  being  all 
arranged,  we  parted,  I to  settle  my  costume  and  appearance 
for  my  first  performance  in  an  old  man’s  part,  and  Curzon  to 
obtain  a short  leave  for  a few  days  from  the  commanding  our 
ficer  of  the  regiment. 

When  we  again  met,  which  was  at  the  mess-table,  it  was  not 
without  evidence  on  either  side  of  that  peculiar  consciousness 
which  persons  feel  who  have,  or  think  they  have,  some  secret  in 
common,  which  the  world  wots  not  of.  Curzon’s  unusually 
quick  and  excited  manner  would  at  once  have  struck  any  close 
observer  as  indicating  the  eve  of  some  important  step,  no  less 
than  continual  allusions  to  whatever  was  going  on,  by  sly  and 
equivocal  jokes  and  ambiguous  jests.  Happily,  however,  on 
the  present  occasion,  the  party  were  otherwise  occupied  than 
watching  him — being  most  profoundly  and  learnedly  engaged 
in  discussing  medicine  and  matters  medical  with  all  the  acute 
and  accurate  knowledge  which  characterizes  such  discussions 
among  the  non-medical  public. 

The  present  conversation  originated  from  some  mention  our 
senior  surgeon,  Fitzgerald,  had  just  made  of  a consultation 
which  he  was  invited  to  attend  on  the  next  morning,  at  the  dis- 
tance of  twenty  miles,  and  which  necessitated  him  to  start  at  a 
most  uncomfortably  early  hour.  While  he  continued  to  deplore 
the  hard  fate  of  such  men  as  himself,  so  eagerly  sought  after  by 
the  world,  that  their  own  hours  were  eternally  broken  in  upon 
by  external  claims,  the  juniors  were  not  sparing  of  their  mirth 
on  the  occasion,  at  the  expense  of  the  worthy  doctor,  who,  in 
plain  truth,  had  never  been  disturbed  by  a request  like  the  pres- 
ent within  anyone’s  memory.  Some  asserted  that  the  whole 
thing  was  a puff,  got  up  by  Fitz  himself,  who  was  only  going  to 
have  a day’s  partridge-shooting  ; others  hinting  that  it  was  a 
blind  to  escape  the  vigilance  of  Mrs.  Fitzgerald — a well-known 
virago  in  the  regiment — while  Fitz  enjoyed  himself  ; and  a third 
party,  pretending  to  sympathize  with  the  doctor,  suggested  that 
a hundred  pounds  would  be  the  least  he  could  possibly  be  of- 
fered for  such  services  as  his  on  so  grave  an  occasion. 

“ No,  no,  only  fifty,”  said  Fitz,  gravely. 

“ Fifty ! Why,  you  tremendous  old  humbug,  you  don’t  mean 
to  say  you’ll  make  fifty  pounds  before  we  are  out  of  our  beds  in 
the  morning  ? ” cried  one. 

“ I’ll  take  your  bet  on  it,”  said  the  doctor,  who  had  in  this  in- 
stance reason  to  suppose  his  fee  would  be  a large  one. 

During  this  discussion,  the  claret  had  been  pushed  round 


THE  WAGER . 


159 


rather  freely ; and  fully  bent  as  I was  upon  the  adventure  be- 
fore me,  I had  taken  my  share  of  it  as  a preparation.  I thought 
of  the  amazing  prize  I was  about  to  be  instrumental  in  securing 
for  my  friend — for  the  lady  had  really  thirty  thousand  pounds 
— and  I could  not  conceal  my  triumph  at  such  a prospect  of 
success  in  comparison  with  the  meaner  object  of  ambition. 
They  all  seemed  to  envy  poor  Fitzgerald.  I struggled  with  my 
secret  for  some  time,  but  my  pride  and  the  claret  together  got 
the  better  of  me,  and  I called  out,  “ Fifty  pounds  on  it,  then, 
that  before  ten  to-morrow  morning,  I’ll  make  a better  hit  of  it 
than  you,  and  the  mess  shall  decide  between  us  afterwards  as  to 
the  winner.” 

“And  if  you  will,”  said  I,  seeing  some  reluctance  on  Fitz’s 
part  to  take  the  wager,  and  getting  emboldened  in  consequence, 
“ let  the  judgment  be  pronounced  over  a couple  of  dozen  of 
champagne,  paid  by  the  loser.” 

This  was  a coup  d'etat  on  my  part,  for  I knew  at  once  there 
were  so  many  parties  to  benefit  by  the  bet,  terminate  which 
way  it  might,  there  could  be  no  possibility  of  evading  it.  My 
device  succeeded,  and  poor  Fitzgerald,  fairly  badgered  into  a 
wager,  the  terms  of  which  he  could  not  in  the  least  comprehend, 
was  obliged  to  sign  the  conditions  inserted  in  the  adjutant’s 
note-book,  his  greatest  hope  in  so  doing  being  in  the  quantity 
of  wine  he  had  seen  me  drink  during  the  evening.  As  for  my- 
self, the  bet  was  no  sooner  made  than  I began  to  think  upon 
the  very  little  chance  I had  of  winning  it ; for  even  supposing 
my  success  perfect  in  the  department  allotted  to  me,  it  might 
with  great  reason  be  doubted  what  peculiar  benefit  I myself 
derived  as  a counterbalance  to  the  fee  of  the  doctor.  For 
this  my  only  trust  lay  in  the  justice  of  a decision  which  I con- 
jectured would  lean  more  towards  the  goodness  of  a practical 
joke  than  the  equity  of  the  transaction.  The  party  at  mess 
soon  after  separated,  and  I wished  my  friend  good  night  for  the 
last  time  before  meeting  him  as  a bridegroom. 

I arranged  everything  in  order  for  my  start.  My  pistol-case 
I placed  conspicuously  before  me,  to  avoid  being  forgotten  in 
the  haste  of  departure ; and,  having  ordered  my  servant  to  sit 
up  all  night  in  the  guard-room  until  he  heard  the  carriage  at 
the  barrack-gate,  threw  myself  on  my  bed,  but  not  to  sleep. 
The  adventure  I was  about  to  engage  in  suggested  to  my  mind 
a thousand  associations,  into  which  many  of  the  scenes  I have 
already  narrated  entered.  I thought  how  frequently  I had  my- 
self been  on  the  verge  of  that  state  which  Curzon  was  about  to 
try,  and  how  it  always  happened  that  when  nearest  to  success 
failure  had  intervened.  From  my  very  schoolboy  days,  my 


i6o 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


love  adventures  had  the  same  unfortunate  abruptness  in  their 
issue  ; and  there  seemed  to  be  something  very  like  a fatality  in 
the  invariable  unsuccess  of  my  efforts  at  marriage.  I feared, 
too,  that  my  friend  Curzon  had  placed  himself  in  very  unfortu- 
nate hands,  if  augury  were  to  be  relied  upon.  “ Something 
will  surely  happen,”  thought  I,  “from  my  confounded  ill  luck, 
and  all  will  be  blown  up.”  Wearied  at  last  with  thinking,  I fell 
into  a sound  sleep  for  about  three-quarters  of  an  hour,  at  the 
end  of  which  I was  awoke  by  my  servant  informing  me  that  a 
chaise-and-four  was  drawn  up  at  the  end  of  the  barrack  lane. 

“ Why,  surely  they  are  too  early,  Stubbes  ? It’s  only  four 
o’clock.” 

“Yes,  sir;  but  they  say  that  the  road  for  eight  miles  is  very 
bad,  and  they  must  go  it  almost  at  a walk.” 

“That  is  certainly  pleasant,”  thought  I,  “but  I’m  in  for  it 
now,  so  can’t  help  it.” 

In  a few  minutes  I was  up  and  dressed,  and  so  perfectly 
transformed  by  the  addition  of  a brown  scratch-wig  and  large  * 
green  spectacles,  and  a deep-flapped  waistcoat,  that  my  servant, 
on  re-entering  my  room,  could  not  recognize  me.  I followed 
him  now  across  the  barrack-yard,  as  with  my  pistol-case  under 
one  arm,  and  a lantern  in  his  hand,  he  proceeded  to  the  bar- 
rack-gate. 

As  I passed  beneath  the  adjutant’s  window,  I saw  a light, — 
the  sash  was  quickly  thrown  open,  and  Curzon  appeared. 

“ Is  that  you,  Harry  ? ” 

“ Yes  ; when  do  you  start  ? ” 

“ In  about  two  hours.  I’ve  only  eight  miles  to  go  ; you  have 
upwards  of  twelve,  and  no  time  to  lose.  Success  attend  you, 
my  boy  ! we’ll  meet  soon.” 

“ Here’s  the  carriage,  sir  ; this  way.” 

“ Well,  my  lads,  you  know  the  road,  I suppose  ? ” 

“ Every  inch  of  it,  your  honor’s  glory  ; we’re  always  coming 
in  for  doctors  and  ’pothecaries  ; they’re  rlever  a week  without 
them.” 

I was  soon  seated,  the  door  clapped  to,  and  the  words  “ all 
right  ” given,  and  away  we  went. 

Little  as  I had  slept  during  the  night,  my  mind  was  too  much 
occupied  with  the  adventure  I was  engaged  in  to  permit  any 
thoughts  of  sleep  now,  so  that  I had  abundant  opportunity  af- 
forded me  of  pondering  over  all  the  bearings  of  the  case  with 
much  more  of  deliberation  and  caution  than  I had  yet  bestowed 
upon  it.  One  thing  was  certain,  whether  success  did  or  did  not 
attend  our  undertaking,  the  risk  was  mine  and  mine  only  ; and 
if  by  any  accident  the  affair  should  be  already  known  to  the 


THE  WAGER. 


161 


family,  I stood  a very  fair  chance  of  being  shot  by  one  of  the 
sons,  or  stoned  to  death  by  the  tenantry  ; while  my  excellent 
friend  Curzon  should  be  eating  his  breakfast  with  his  reverend 
friend,  and  only  interrupting  himself  in  his  fourth  muffin  to  won- 
der “ what  could  keep  them  ; ” and  besides,  for  minor  miseries 
will,  like  the  blue  devils  in  Don  Giovanni,  thrust  up  their 
heads  among  their  better-grown  brethren,  my  fifty-pound  bet 
looked  rather  blue  ; for  even  under  the  most  favorable  light 
considered,  however  Curzon  might  be  esteemed  a gainer,  it 
might  well  be  doubted  how  far  I had  succeeded  better  than  the 
doctor,  when  producing  his  fee  in  evidence.  Well,  well,  I’m  in 
for  it  now  ; but  it  certainly  is  strange  all  these  very  awkward  cir- 
cumstances never  struck  me  so  forcibly  before  ; and  after  all,  it 
was  not  quite  fair  of  Curzon  to  put  any  man  forward  in  such  a 
transaction  ; the  more  so,  as  such  a representation  might  be 
made  of  it  at  the  Horse  Guards  as  to  stop  a man’s  promotion,  or 
seriously  affect  his  prospects  for  life  ; and  I at  last  began  to  con- 
vince myself  that  many  a man  so  placed  would  carry  the  lady 
off  himself,  and  leave  the  adjutant  to  settle  the  affair  with  the 
family.  For  two  mortal  hours  did  I conjure  up  every  possible 
disagreeable  contingency  that  might  arise.  My  being  mulct 
of  my  fifty,  and  laughed  at  by  the  mess,  seemed  inevitable,  even 
were  I fortunate  enough  to  escape  a duel  with  the  fire-eating 
brother.  Meanwhile  a thick  misty  rain  continued  to  fall,  ad- 
ding so  much  to  the  darkness  of  the  early  hour,  that  I could 
see  little  of  the  country  about  me,  and  knew  nothing  of  where 
I was. 

Troubles  are  like  laudanum,  a small  dose  only  excites,  a strong 
one  sets  you  to  sleep — not  a very  comfortable  sleep  mayhap — 
but  still  it  is  sleep,  and  often  very  sound  sleep ; so  it  now  hap- 
pened with  me.  I had  pondered  over,  weighed  and  considered 
all  the  pros , cons,  turnings,  and  windings  of  this  awkward  predic- 
ament, till  I had  fairly  convinced  myself  that  I was  on  the  high 
road  to  a confounded  scrape ; and  then,  having  established  that 
fact  to  my  entire  satisfaction,  I fell  comfortably  back  in  the 
chaise,  and  sank  into  a most  profound  slumber. 

If  to  any  of  my  readers  I may  appear  here  to  have  taken  a 
very  despondent  view  of  this  whole  affair,  let  him  only  call  to 
mind  my  invariable  ill  luck  in  such  matters,  and  how  always  it 
had  been  my  lot  to  see  myself  on  the  fair  road  to  success  only 
up  to  that  point  at  which  it  is  certain ; besides But  why  ex- 

plain ? These  are  my  “ Confessions.”  I may  not  alter  what  are 
matters  of  fact,  and  my  reader  must  only  take  me  with  all  the 
imperfections  of  wrong  motives  and  headlong  impulses  upon  my 
head,  or  abandon  me  at  once. 
ii 


162 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


Meanwhile  the  chaise  rolled  along,  and  the  road  being  bet- 
ter and  the  pace  faster,  my  sleep  became  more  easy ; thus,  about 
an  hour  and  a half  after  I had  fallen  asleep  passed  rap- 
idly over,  when  the  sharp  turning  of  an  angle  disturbed  me  from 
my  leaning  position,  and  I awoke.  I started  up  and  rubbed  my 
eyes  ; several  seconds  elapsed  before  I could  think  where  I 
was  or  whither  going.  Consciousness  at  last  came,  and 
I perceived  that  we  were  driving  up  a thickly-planted  ave- 
nue. Why,  confound  it,  they  can’t  have  mistaken  it,  thought  I, 
or  are  we  really  going  up  to  the  house,  instead  of  waiting  at  the 
lodge  ? I at  once  lowered  the  sash,  and  stretching  out  my  head, 
cried  out,  “ Do  you  know  what  ye  are  about,  lads  ; is  this  all 
right  ? ” but  unfortunately,  amid  the  rattling  of  the  gravel  and 
the  clatter  of  the  horses,  my  words  were  unheard  ; and  thinking 
I was  addressing  a request  to  go  faster,  the  villains  cracked 
their  whips,  and  breaking  into  a full  gallop,  before  five  minutes 
flew  over,  they  drew  up  with  a jerk  at  the  foot  of  a long  portico 
to  a large  and  spacious  cut-stone  mansion.  When  I rallied. from 
the  sudden  check,  which  had  nearly  thrown  me  through  the  win- 
dow, I gave  myself  up  for  lost ; here  I was,  vis-a-vis  the  very 
hall-door  of  the  man  whose  daughter  I was  about  to  elope  with ; 
whether  so  placed  by  the  awkwardness  and  blundering  of  the 
wretches  who  drove  me,  or  delivered  up  by  their  treachery,  it 
mattered  not,  my  fate  seemed  certain  ; before  I had  time  to  de- 
termine upon  any  line  of  acting  in  this  confounded  dilemma, 
the  door  was  jerked  open  by  a servant  in  sombre  livery,  who, 
protruding  his  head  and  shoulders  into  the  chaise,  looked  at  me 
steadily  for  a moment,  and  said,  “ Ah  ! then,  doctor,  darlin’,  but 
ye’re  welcome.”  With  the  speed  with  which  sometimes  the  bar 
of  an  air  long  since  heard,  or  the  passing  glance  of  an  old  famil- 
iar face  can  call  up  the  memory  of  our  very  earliest  childhood, 
bright  and  vivid  before  us,  did  that  one  single  phrase  explain 
the  entire  mystery  of  my  present  position,  and  I saw  in  one  rapid 
glance  that  I had  got  into  the  chaise  intended  for  Dr.  Fitzger- 
ald, and  was  absolutely,  at  that  moment,  before  the  hall-door  of 
the  patient.  My  first  impulse  was  an  honest  one  to  avow  the 
mistake  and  retrace  my  steps,  taking  my  chance  to  settle  with 
Curzon,  whose  matrimonial  scheme  I foresaw  was  doomed  to 
the  untimely  fate  of  all  those  I had  ever  been  concerned  in.  My 
next  thought — how  seldom  is  the  adage  true  which  says  “ that 
second  thoughts  are  best  ” — was  upon  my  luckless  wager  : for 
even  supposing  that  Fitzgerald  should  follow  me  in  the  other 
chaise,  yet,  as  I had  the  start  of  him,  if  I could  only  pass  mus- 
ter for  half  an  hour,  I might  secure  the  fee,  and  evacuate  the 
territory  ; besides  that,  there  was  a great  chance  of  Fitz’s  hav- 


THE  WAGER . 


163 

ing  gone  on  my  errand,  while  I was  journeying  on  his , in  which 
case  I should  be  safe  from  interruption.  Meanwhile,  Heaven 
only  could  tell  what  his  interference  in  poor  Curzon’s  business 
might  not  involve.  These  serious  reflections  took  about  ten  sec- 
onds to  pass  through  my  mind,  as  the  grave-looking  old  servant 
proceeded  to  encumber  himself  with  my  cloak  and  my  pistol-case, 
remarking  as  he  lifted  the  latter,  “ And  may  the  Lord  grant  ye 
won’t  want  the  instruments  this  time,  doctor,  for  they  say  he  is 
better  this  morning.”  Heartily  wishing  amen  to  the  benevolent 
prayer  of  the  honest  domestic,  for  more  reasons  than  one,  I de- 
scended leisurely,  as  I conjectured  a doctor  ought  to  do,  from 
the  chaise,  and  with  a solemn  pace  and  grave  demeanor  followed 
him  into  the  house. 

In  the  small  parlor  to  which  I was  ushered  sat  two  gentle- 
men somewhat  advanced  in  years,  who  I rightly  supposed  were 
my  medical  confreres . One  of  these  was  a tall,  pale,  ascetic- 
looking man,  with  gray  hair  and  retreating  forehead,  slow  in 
speech,  and  lugubrious  in  demeanor.  The  other,  his  antithesis, 
was  a short,  rosy-cheeked,  apoplectic-looking  subject,  with  a 
laugh  like  a suffocating  wheeze,  and  a paunch  like  an  alderman  ; 
his  quick,  restless  eye  and  full  nether  lip  denoting  more  of  the 
bon  vivant  than  the  abstemious  disciple  of  H^sculapius.  A mo- 
ment’s glance  satisfied  me,  that  if  I had  only  these  to  deal  with, 
I was  safe,  for  I saw  that  they  were  of  that  stamp  of  country 
practitioner,  half-physician,  half-apothecary,  who  rarely  come  in 
contact  with  the  higher  orders  of  their  art,  and  then  only  to  be 
dictated  to,  obey,  and  grumble. 

“ Doctor,  may  I beg  to  intrude  myself,  Mr.  Phipps,  on  your 
notice  ? Dr.  Phipps  or  Mr.,  it’s  all  one ; but  I have  only  a 
license  in  pharmacy,  though  they  call  me  doctor.  Surgeon 
Riley,  sir,  a very  respectable  practitioner,”  said  he,  waving  his 
hand  towards  his  rubicund  confrere. 

I at  once  expressed  the  great  happiness  it  afforded  me  to 
meet  such  highly  informed  and  justly  celebrated  gentlemen  ; 
and  fearing  every  moment  the  arrival  of  the  real  Simon  Pure 
should  cover  me  with  shame  and  disgrace,  begged  they  would 
afford  me,  as  soon  as  possible,  some  history  of  the  case  we  were 
convened  for.  They  accordingly  proceeded  to  expound,  in  a 
species  of  duet,  some  curious  particulars  of  an  old  gentleman 
who  had  the  evil  fortune  to  have  them  for  his  doctors,  and  who 
labored  under  some  swelling  of  the  neck,  which  they  differed 
as  to  the  treatment  of,  and  in  consequence  of  which  the  aid  of 
a third  party  (myself,  Heaven  bless  the  mark  !)  was  requested. 

As  I could  by  no  means  divest  myself  of  the  fear  of  Fitz’s  ar- 
rival, I pleaded  the  multiplicity  of  my  professional  engagements 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


164 

as  a reason  for  at  once  seeing  the  patient ; upon  which  I was 
conducted  up  stairs  by  my  two  brethren,  and  introduced  to  a half- 
lighted  chamber.  In  a large  easy-chair  sat  a florid-looking  old 
man,  with  a face  in  which  pain  and  habitual  ill-temper  had  com- 
bined to  absorb  every  expression. 

“ This  is  the  doctor  of  the  regiment,  sir,  that  you  desired  to 
see,”  said  my  tall  coadjutor. 

“ Oh ! then,  very  well ; good-morning,  sir.  I suppose  you 
will  find  out  something  new  the  matter,  for  them  two  there  have 
been  doing  so  every  day  this  two  months.” 

“ I trust,  sir,”  I replied  stiffly,  “ that  with  the  assistance  of 
my  learned  friends  much  may  be  done  for  you.  Ha  ! hem  ! so 
this  is  the  malady.  Turn  your  head  a little  to  that  side.”  Here 
an  awful  groan  escaped  the  sick  man,  for  I,  it  appears,  had 
made  considerable  impression  upon  rather  a delicate  part,  not 
unintentionally,  I must  confess  ; for  as  I remembered  Hoyle’s 
maxim  at  whist,  “ when  in  doubt  play  a trump,”  so  I thought 
it  might  be  true  in  physic,  when  posed  by  a difficulty,  to  do  a 
bold  thing  also.  “ Does  that  hurt  you,  sir  ? ” said  I,  in  a sooth- 
ing  and  affectionate  tone  of  voice. 

“ Like  the  devil,”  growled  the  patient. 

“And  here?  ” said  I. 

“ Oh  ! oh  ! I can’t  bear  it  any  longer.” 

“ Oh ! I perceive,”  said  I,  “ the  thing  is  just  as  I expected.” 
Here  I raised  my  eyebrows,  and  looked  indescribably  wise  at 

my  confreres . 

• “ No  aneurism,  doctor,”  said  the  tall  one. 

“ Certainly  not.” 

“ Maybe,”  said  the  short  man, — “ maybe  it’s  a stay-at-home- 
with-us  tumor  after  all,” — so  at  least  he  appeared  to  pronounce 
a confounded  technical,  which  I afterwards  learned  was  “ stea- 
tomatous.”  Conceiving  that  my  rosy  friend  was  disposed  to  jeer 
at  me,  I gave  him  a terrific  frown  and  resumed,  “This  must  not 
be  touched.” 

“ So  you  won’t  operate  upon  it,”  said  the  patient. 

“ I would  not  take  a thousand  pounds  to  do  so,”  I replied. 
“ Now,  if  you  please,  gentlemen,”  said  I,  making  a step  towards 
the  door,  as  if  to  withdraw  for  consultation  ; upon  which  they 
accompanied  me  down  stairs  to  the  breakfast-room.  As  it  was 
the  only  time  in  my  life  I had  performed  in  this  character,  I had 
some  doubts  as  to  the  propriety  of  indulging  a very  hearty  break- 
fast appetite,  not  knowing  if  it  were  unprofessional  to  eat ; but 
from  this  doubt  my  learned  friends  speedily  relieved  me,  by  the 
entire  devotion  which  they  bestowed  for  about  twenty  minutes 
upon  ham,  rolls,  eggs  and  cutlets,  barely  interrupting  these  im- 


THE  ELOPEMENT  165 

portant  occupations  by  sly  allusions  to  the  old  gentlemen’s  mal- 
ady, and  his  chance  of  recovery. 

“ Well,  doctor,”  said  the  pale  one,  as  at  length  he  rested  from 
his  labors,  “ what  are  we  to  do  ? ” 

“ Ay,”  said  the  other,  “ there’s  the  question.” 

“ Go  on,”  said  I,  “go  on  as  before  ; I can’t  advise  you  better.” 
Now,  this  was  a deep  stroke  of  mine  ; for  up  to  the  present  mo- 
ment I did  not  know  what  treatment  they  were  practising ; but 
it  looked  a shrewd  thing  to  guess  it  and  it  certainly  was  civil  to 
approve  of  it. 

“ So  you  think  that  will  be  best  ? ” 

“ I am  certain  that  I know  nothing  better,”  I answered. 

“ Well,  I’m  sure,  sir,  we  have  every  reason  to  be  gratified  for 
the  very  candid  manner  in  which  you  have  treated  us.  Sir,  I’m 
your  most  obedient  servant,”  said  the  fat  one. 

“ Gentlemen,  both  your  good  healths  and  professional  success 
also.”  Here  I swallowed  a glass  of  brandy,  thinking  all  the  while 
there  were  worse  things  than  the  practice  of  physic. 

“ I hope  you  are  not  going  ? ” said  one,  as  my  chaise  drew  up 
at  the  door. 

“ Business  calls  me,”  said  I,  “ and  I can’t  help  it.” 

“ Could  not  you  manage  to  see  our  friend  here  again,  in  a day 
or  two  ? ” said  the  rosy  one. 

“ I fear  it  will  be  impossible,”  replied  I ; “ besides,  I have  a 
notion  he  may  not  desire  it.” 

“ I have  been  commissioned  to  hand  you  this,”  said  the  tall 
doctor,  with  a half  sigh,  as  he  put  a check  into  my  hand. 

I bowed  slightly,  and  stuffed  the  crumpled  paper  with  a half- 
careless air  into  my  waistcoat  pocket,  and  wishing  them  both 
every  species  of  happiness  and  success,  shook  hands  four  times 
with  each,  and  drove  off,  never  believing  myself  safe  till  I saw 
the  gate-lodge  behind  me,  and  felt  myself  flying  on  the  road  to 
Kilkenny  at  about  twelve  miles  Irish  an  hour. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE  ELOPEMENT. 

It  was  past  two  o’clock  when  I reached  the  town.  On  enter- 
ing the  barrack-yard,  I perceived  a large  group  of  officers  chat- 
ting  together,  and  every  moment  breaking  into  immoderate  fits 
of  laughter.  I went  over,  and  immediately  learned  the  source 
of  their  mirth,  which  was  this.  No  sooner  had  it  been  known 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


1 66 

that  Fitzgerald  was  about  to  go  to  a distance,  on  a professional 
call,  than  a couple  of  young  officers  laid  their  heads  together,  and 
wrote  an  anonymous  note  to  Mrs.  Fitz,  who  was  the  very  dragon 
of  jealousy,  informing  her  that  her  husband  had  feigned  the 
whole  history  of  the  patient  and  consultation  as  an  excuse  for 
absenting  himself  on  an  excursion  of  gallantry  ; and  that  if  she 
wished  to  satisfy  herself  of  the  truth  of  the  statement  she  had 
only  to  follow  him  in  the  morning,  and  detect  his  entire  scheme  ; 
the  object  of  these  amiable  friends  being  to  give  poor  Mrs.  Fitz 
a twenty  miles’  jaunt,  and  confront  her  with  her  injured  husband 
at  the  end  of  it. 

Having  a mind  actively  alive  to  suspicions  of  this  nature,  the 
worthy  woman  made  all  her  arrangements  for  a start,  and 
scarcely  was  the  chaise-and-four,  with  her  husband,  out  of  the 
town,  than  was  she  on  the  track  of  it,  with  a heart  bursting 
with  jealousy,  and  vowing  vengeance  to  the  knife  against  all 
concerned  in  this  scheme  to  wrong  her. 

So  far  the  plan  of  her  persecutors  had  perfectly  succeeded ; 
they  saw  her  depart,  on  a trip  of,  as  they  supposed,  twenty 
miles,  and  their  whole  notions  of  the  practical  joke  were  limited 
to  the  eclaircisseme?it  that  must  ensue  at  the  end.  Little,  how- 
ever, were  they  aware  how  much  more  near  the  suspected  crime 
was  the  position  of  the  poor  doctor  to  turn  out ; for  as,  by  one 
blunder,  I had  taken  his  chaise,  so  he,  without  any  inquiry  what- 
ever, had  got  into  the  one  intended  for  me  ; and  never  awoke 
from  a most  refreshing  slumber  till  shaken  by  the  shoulder  by 
the  postilion,  who  whispered  in  his  ear,  “ Here  we  are,  sir ; this 
is  the  gate.” 

“ But  why  stop  at  the  gate  ? Drive  up  the  avenue,  my  boy.” 

“ His  honor  told  me,  sir,  not  for  the  world  to  go  farther  than 
the  lodge  ; nor  to  make  as  much  noise  as  a mouse.” 

“ Ah  ! very  true.  He  may  be  very  irritable,  poor  man  ! Well, 
stop  here,  and  I’ll  get  out.” 

Just  as  the  doctor  had  reached  the  ground,  a very  smart-look- 
ing soubrette  tripped  up,  and  said  to  him, — 

“ Beg  pardon,  sir  : but  you  are  the  gentleman  from  the  bar- 
rack, sir  ? ” 

“Yes,  my  dear,”  said  Fitz,  with  a knowing  look  at  the  pretty 
face  of  the  damsel,  “ what  can  I do  for  you  ? ” 

“ Why,  sir,  my  mistress  is  here  in  the  shrubbery  : but  she  is 
so  nervous,  and  so  frightened,  I don’t  know  she’ll  go  through 
it?” 

“ Ah  ! she’s  frightened,  poor  thing,  is  she  ? Oh  ! she  must 
keep  up  her  spirits ; while  there’s  life  there’s  hope.” 

“ Sir  ? ” 


THE  ELOPEMENT.  167 

“ I say,  my  darling,  she  must  not  give  way.  I’ll  speak  to  her 
a little.  Is  not  he  rather  advanced  in  life  ? ” 

“ Oh,  Lord ! no,  sir.  Only  two-and-thirty,  my  mistress  tells 
me.” 

“ Two-and-thirty ! Why,  I thought  he  was  above  sixty.” 
“Above  sixty!  Law!  sir.  You  have  a bright  fancy.  This 
is  the  gentleman,  ma’am.  Now,  sir,  I’ll  just  slip  aside  for  a 
moment,  and  let  you  talk  to  her.” 

“ I am  grieved,  ma’am,  that  I have  not  the  happiness  to  make 
your  acquaintance  under  happier  circumstances.” 

“ I must  confess,  sir — though  I am  ashamed ” 

“Never  be  ashamed,  ma’am;  your  grief,  although  I trust- 
causeless,  does  you  infinite  honor.  Upon  my  soul,  she  is 
rather  pretty,”  said  the  doctor  to  himself  here. 

“ Well,  sir  ! as  I have  the  most  perfect  confidence  in  you,  from 
all  I have  heard  of  you,  I trust  you  will  not  think  me  abrupt  in 
saying  that  any  longer  delay  here  is  dangerous.” 

“ Dangerous  ! Is  he  in  so  critical  a state  as  that,  then  ? ” 

“ Critical  a state,  sir  ! Why,  what  do  you  mean  ? ” 

“ I mean,  ma’am,  do  you  think,  then,  it  must  be  done  to-day  ? ” 
“ Of  course  I do,  sir,  and  I shall  never  leave  the  spot  without 
your  assuring  me  of  it.” 

“ Oh  ! in  that  case  make  your  mind  easy.  I have  the  instru- 
ments in  the  chaise.” 

“ The  instruments  in  the  chaise  ! Really,  sir,  if  you  are  not 
jesting — I trust  you  don’t  think  this  is  a fitting  time  for  such — 
I entreat  of  you  to  speak  more  plainly  and  intelligibly.” 

“Jesting,  ma’am!  I’m  incapable  of  jesting  at  such  a mo- 
ment.” 

“ Ma’am,  ma’am  ! I see  one  of  the  rangers,  ma’am,  at  a dis- 
tance ; so  don’t  lose  a moment,  but  get  into  the  chaise  at  once.” 
“ Well,  sir,  let  us  away  ; for  I have  now  gone  too  far  to  re- 
tract.” 

“ Help  my  mistress  into  the  chaise,  sir.  Lord  ! what  a man 
it  is.” 

A moment  more  saw  the  poor  doctor  seated  beside  the  young 
lady,  while  the  postilions  plied  whip  and  spur  with  their  best 
energy ; and  the  road  flew  beneath  them.  Meanwhile  the  de- 
lay caused  by  this  short  dialogue  enabled  Mrs.  Fitz’s  slower 
conveyance  to  come  up  with  the  pursuit,  and  her  chaise  had 
just  turned  the  angle  of  the  road  as  she  caught  a glimpse  of  a 
muslin  dress  stepping  into  the  carriage  with  her  husband. 

There  are  no  words  capable  of  conveying  the  faintest  idea  of 
the  feelings  that  agitated  Mrs.  Fitz  at  this  moment.  The  full- 
est confirmation  to  her  worst  fears  was  before  her  eyes — just  at 


i68 


HARRY  LORRE QUER. 


the  very  instant  when  a doubt  was  beginning  to  cross  over  her 
mind  that  it  might  have  been  merely  a hoax  that  was  practised 
on  her,  and  that  the  worthy  doctor  was  innocent  and  blameless. 
As  for  the  poor  doctor  himself,  there  seemed  little  chance  of 
his  being  enlightened  as  to  the  real  state  of  matters ; for  from 
the  moment  the  young  lady  had  taken  her  place  in  the  chaise, 
she  had  buried  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  sobbed  continually. 
Meanwhile  he  concluded  that  they  were  approaching  the  house 
by  some  back  entrance  to  avoid  noise  and  confusion,  and  waited 
with  due  patience  for  the  journey's  end. 

As,  however,  her  grief  continued  unabated,  Fitz  at  length  be- 
gan to  think  of  the  many  little  consolatory  acts  he  had  success- 
fully practised  in  his  professional  career,  and  was  just  insinuat- 
ing some  very  tender  speech  on  the  score  of  resignation,  with 
his  head  inclined  towards  the  weeping  lady  beside  him,  when 
the  chaise  of  Mrs.  Fitz  came  up  alongside,  and  the  postilions 
having  yielded  to  the  call  to  halt,  drew  suddenly  up,  displaying 
to  the  enraged  wife  the  tableau  we  have  mentioned. 

“ So,  wretch  ! ” she  screamed  rather  than  spoke,  “ I have  de- 
tected you  at  last." 

“ Lord  bless  me  ! Why,  it  is  my  wife." 

“ Yes  villain  ! your  injured,  much-wronged  wife  ! And  you, 
madam,  may  I ask  what  have  you  to  say  for  thus  eloping  with  a 
married  man  ? " 

“ Shame  ! My  dear  Jemima,"  said  Fitz,  “how  can  you  possi- 
bly permit  your  foolish  jealousy  so  far  to  blind  your  reason  ? 
Don’t  you  see  I am  going  upon  a professional  call  ? " 

“Oh  ! you  are,  are  you?  Quite  professional,  I’ll  be  bound." 

“ Oh,  sir ! Oh,  madam  ! I beseech  you,  save  me  from  the 
anger  of  my  relatives,  and  the  disgrace  of  exposure.  Pray  take 
me  back  at  once." 

“Why,  heavens!  ma’am,  what  do  you  mean?  You  are  not 
gone  mad,  as  well  as  my  wife." 

“Really,  Mr.  Fitz,"  said  Mrs.  F.,  “This  is  carrying  the  joke 
too  far.  Take  your  unfortunate  victim — as  I suppose  she  is 
such — home  to  her  parents,  and  prepare  to  accompany  me  to 
the  barrack  ; and  if  there  be  law  and  justice  in ’’ 

“Well!  may  the  Lord  in  his  mercy  preserve  my  senses,  or 
you  will  both  drive  me  clean  mad." 

“Oh,  dear!  oh,  dear!"  sobbed  the  young  lady,  while  Mrs. 
Fitzgerald  continued  to  upbraid  at  the  top  of  her  voice,  heedless 
of  the  disclaimers  and  protestations  of  innocence  poured  out 
with  the  eloquence  of  despair  by  the  poor  doctor.  Matters 
were  in  this  state,  when  a man  dressed  in  a fustian  jacket,  like 
a groom,  drove  up  to  the  side  of  the  road  in  a tax-cart  : he  im- 


DETACHMENT  DUTY. 


169 

mediately  got  down,  and  tearing  open  the  door  of  the  doctor's 
chaise,  lifted  out  the  young  lady,  and  deposited  her  safely  in 
his  own  conveyance,  merely  adding, — 

“ I say,  master,  you're  in  luck  this  morning  that  Mr.  William 
took  the  lower  road,  for  if  he  had  come  up  with  you  instead  of 
me,  he'd  blow  the  roof  off  your  skull,  that’s  all." 

While  these  highly  satisfactory  words  were  being  addressed 
to  poor  Fitz,  Mrs.  Fitzgerald  had  removed  from  her  carriage  to 
that  of  her  husband,  perhaps  preferring  four  horses  to  two,  or 
perhaps  she  had  still  more  unexplained  views  of  the  transaction, 
which  might  as  well  be  told  on  the  road  homeward. 

Whatever  might  have  been  the  nature  of  Mrs.  F.'s  disserta- 
tion, nothing  is  known.  The  chaise  containing  these  turtle- 
doves arrived  late  at  night  at  Kilkenny,  and  Fitz  was  installed 
safely  in  his  quarters  before  any  one  knew  of  his  having  come 
back.  The  following  morning  he  was  reported  ill ; and  for 
three  weeks  he  was  but  once  seen,  and  at  that  time  only  at  his 
window,  with  a flannel  nightcap  on  his  head  looking  particu- 
larly pale,  and  rather  dark  under  one  eye. 

As  for  Curzon,  the  last  thing  known  of  him  that  luckless 
morning  was  his  hiring  a post-chaise  for  the  Royal  Oak,  from 
whence  he  posted  to  Dublin,  and  hastened  on  to  England.  In  a 
few  days  we  learned  that  the  adjutant  had  exchanged  into  a regi- 
ment in  Canada  ; and  to  this  hour  there  are  not  three  men  in 
the  4 — th  who  know  the  real  secret  of  that  morning's  misadvent- 
ures. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

DETACHMENT  DUTY — AN  ASSIZE  TOWN. 

As  there  appeared  to  be  but  little  prospect  of  poor  Fitzgerald 
ever  requiring  any  explanation  from  me  as  to  the  events  of  that 
morning,  for  he  feared  to  venture  from  his  room,  lest  he  might  be 
recognized  and  prosecuted  for  abduction,  I thought  it  better  to 
keep  my  own  secret  also  ; and  it  was  therefore  with  a feeling  of 
anything  but  regret  that  I have  received  an  order  which,  under 
other  circumstances,  would  have  rendered  me  miserable — to 
march  on  detachment  duty.  To  any  one  at  all  conversant  with 
the  life  we  lead  in  the  army,  I need  not  say  how  unpleasant  such 
a change  usually  is.  To  surrender  your  capital  mess,  with  all  its 
well-appointed  equipments — your  jovial  brother  officers — your 
West  India  Madeira — your  cool  Lafitte — your  daily,  hourly,  and 


IJ6 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


half-hourly  flirtations  with  the  whole  female  population — never  a 
deficient  one  in  a garrison  town — not  to  speak  of  your  matches  at 
trotting,  coursing,  and  pigeon-shooting,  and  a hundred  other  de- 
lectable modes  of  getting  over  the  ground  through  life,  till  it 
please  your  ungrateful  country  and  the  Horse  Guards  to  make 
you  a major-general, — to  surrender  all  these,  I say,  for  the  noise, 
dust,  and  damp  disagreeables  of  a country  inn,  with  bacon  to 
eat,  whisky  to  drink,  and  the  priest,  or  the  constabulary  chief,  to 
get  drunk  with — I speak  of  Ireland  here — and  your  only  affair, 
par  amours , being  the  occasional  ogling  of  the  apothecary’s 
daughter  opposite,  as  often  as  she  visits  the  shop,  in  the  excit- 
ing occupation  of  measuring  out  garden  seeds  and  senna. 
These  are,  indeed,  the  exchanges,  with  a difference,  for  which 
there  is  no  compensation  ; and,  for  my  own  part,  I never  went 
upon  such  duty  that  I did  not  exclaim  with  the  honest  Irishman, 
when  the  mail  went  over  him,  “ Oh,  Lord  ! what  is  this  for  ? ” — 
firmly  believing  that  in  the  earthly  purgatory  of  such  duties  I was 
reaping  the  heavy  retribution  attendant  on  past  offences. 

Besides,  from  being  rather  a crack  man  in  my  corps,  I thought 
it  somewhat  hard  that  my  turn  for  such  duty  should  come 
round  about  twice  as  often  as  that  of  my  brother  officers  ; but  so 
it  is.  I never  knew  a fellow  a little  smarter  than  his  neighbors 
that  was  not  pounced  upon  by  his  colonel  for  a victim.  Now, 
however,  I looked  at  these  matters  in  a very  different  light.  To 
leave  head-quarters  was  to  escape  being  questioned  : while  there 
was  scarcely  any  post  to  which  I could  be  sent  where  something 
strange  or  adventurous  might  not  turn  up,  and  serve  me  to  erase 
the  memory  of  the  past,  and  turn  the  attention  of  my  compan- 
ions in  any  quarter  rather  than  towards  myself. 

My  orders  on  the  present  occasion  were  to  march  to  Clon- 
mel, from  whence  I was  to  proceed  a short  distance  to  the  house 
of  a magistrate,  upon  whose  information,  transmitted  to  the 
chief  secretary,  the  present  assistance  of  a military  party  had 
been  obtained  ; and  not  without  every  appearance  of  reason. 
The  assizes  of  the  town  were  about  to  be  held,  and  many  capi- 
tal offences  stood  for  trial  in  the  calendar ; and  as  it  was 
strongly  rumored  that,  in  the  event  of  certain  convictions  be- 
ing obtained,  a rescue  would  be  attempted,  a general  attack 
upon  the  town  seemed  a too  natural  consequence  ; and  if  so,  the 
house  of  so  obnoxious  a person  as  him  I have  alluded  to 
would  be  equally  certain  of  being  assailed.  Such,  at  least,  is  too 
frequently  the  history  of  such  scenes  : beginning  with  no  one  de- 
finite object — sometimes  a slight  one — more  ample  views  and 
wider  conceptions  of  mischief  follow,  and  what  has  begun  in  a 
drunken  riot — a casual  rencontre — may  terminate  in  the  slaugh- 


DETACHMENT  DUTY. 


171 


ter  of  a family,  or  the  burning  of  a village.  The  finest  peasan- 
try— God  bless  them  ! — are  a quick  people,  and  readier  at  tak- 
ing a hint  than  most  others,  and  have,  withal,  a natural  taste 
for  fighting,  that  no  acquired  habits  of  other  nations  can  pretend 
to  vie  with. 

As  the  worthy  person  to  whose  house  I was  now  about  to 
proceed  was,  and,  if  I am  rightly  informed,  is,  rather  a remark- 
able character  in  the  local  history  of  Irish  politics,  I may  as  well 
say  a few  words  concerning  him.  Mr.  Joseph  Larkins,  Esq. — 
(for  so  he  signed  himself) — had  only  been  lately  elevated  to  the 
bench  of  magistrates.  He  was  originally  one  of  that  large  but 
intelligent  class  called  in  Ireland  “ small  farmers,”  remarkable 
chiefly  for  a considerable  tact  in  driving  hard  bargains — a great 
skill  in  wethers — a rather  national  dislike  to  pay  all  species  of 
imposts,  whether  partaking  of  the  nature  of  tax,  tithe,  grand 
jury  cess,  or  anything  of  that  nature  whatsoever.  So  very  ac- 
countable— I had  almost  said  (for  I have  been  long  quartered 
in  Ireland)  so  very  laudable — a propensity  excited  but  little  of 
surprise  or  astonishment  in  his  neighbors,  the  majority  of  whom 
entertained  very  similar  views — none,  however,  possessing  any- 
thing like  the  able  and  lawyer-like  ability  of  the  worthy  Larkins, 
for  the  successful  evasion  of  these  inroads  upon  the  liberty  of 
the  subject.  Such,  in  fact,  was  his  talent,  and  so  great  his  suc- 
cess in  this  respect,  that  he  had  established  what,  if  it  did  not 
actually  amount  to  a statute  of  exemption  in  law,  served  equally 
well  in  reality;  and  for  several  years  he  enjoyed  a perfect  im- 
munity on  the  subject  of  money-paying  in  general.  His  “ little 
houldin’,”  as  he  unostentatiously  called  some  five  hundred  acres 
of  bog,  mountain,  and  sheep-walk,  lay  in  a remote  part  of  the 
county,  the  roads  were  nearly  impassable  for  several  miles  in 
that  direction,  land  was  of  little  value ; the  agent  was  a timid 
man,  with  a large  family  ; of  three  tithe-proctors  who  had  pen- 
etrated into  the  forbidden  territory,  two  labored  under  a dys- 
pepsia for  life,  not  being  able  to  digest  parchment  and  sealing- 
wax,  for  they  usually  dined  on  their  own  writs  ; and  the  third 
gave  five  pounds  out  of  his. pocket  to  a large,  fresh-looking  man, 
with  brown  whiskers  and  beard,  that  concealed  him  two  nights 
in  a hayloft,  to  escape  the  vengeance  of  the  people,  which  act 
of  philanthropy  should  never  be  forgotton,  if  some  ill-natured 
people  were  not  bold  enough  to  say  that  the  kind  individual 
in  question  was  no  other  man  than  Larkins  himself. 

However  this  may  be,  true  it  is  that  this  was  the  last  attempt 
made  to  bring  within  the  responsibilities  of  the  law  so  refractory 
a subject ; and  so  powerful  is  habit,  that,  although  he  was  to  be 
met  with  at  every  market  and  cattle-fair  in  the  country,  an  arrest 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


1 72 

of  his  person  was  no  more  contemplated  than  if  he  enjoyed  the 
privilege  of  parliament  to  go  at  large  without  danger. 

When  the  country  became  disturbed,  and  nightly  meetings  of 
the  peasantry  were  constantly  held,  followed  by  outrages  against 
life  and  property  to  the  most  frightful  extent,  the  usual  re- 
sources of  the  law  were  employed  unavailingly.  It  was  in  vain  to 
offer  high  rewards.  Approvers  could  not  be  found  ; and  so  per- 
fectly organized  were  the  secret  associations,  that  few  beyond 
the  very  ringleaders  knew  anything  of  consequence  to  commu- 
nicate. Special  commissions  were  sent  down  from  Dublin  ; ad- 
ditional police  force,  detachments  of  military ; long  correspond- 
ences took  place  between  the  magistracy  and  the  government 
— but  all  in  vain.  The  disturbances  continued  ; and  at  last  to 
such  a height  had  they  risen,  that  the  country  was  put  under 
martial  law ; and  even  this  was  ultimately  found  perfectly  in- 
sufficient to  repel  what  now  daily  threatened  to  become  an  open 
rebellion  rather  than  mere  agrarian  disturbance.  It  was  at  this 
precise  moment,  when  all  resources  seemed  to  be  fast  exhaust- 
ing themselves,  that  certain  information  reached  the  Castle,  of 
the  most  important  nature.  The  individual  who  obtained  and 
transmitted  it  had  perilled  his  life  in  so  doing — but  the  result 
was  a great  one — no  less  than  the  capital  conviction  and  execu- 
tion of  seven  of  the  most  influential  amongst  the  disaffected 
peasantry.  Confidence  was  at  once  shaken  in  the  secrecy  of 
their  associates  ; distrust  and  suspicion  followed.  Many  of  the 
boldest  sank  beneath  the  fear  of  betrayal,  and  themselves  be- 
came evidence  for  the  Crown  ; and  in  five  months,  a county 
abounding  in  midnight  meetings,  and  blazing  with  insurrection- 
ary fires,  became  almost  the  most  tranquil  in  its  province.  It 
may  well  be  believed  that  he  who  rendered  this  important  ser- 
vice on  this  trying  emergency  could  not  be  passed  over,  and 
the  name  of  J.  Larkins  soon  after  appeared  in  the  Gazette  as 
one  of  His  Majesty’s  justices  of  the  peace  for  the  county ; 
pretty  much  in  the  same  spirit  in  which  a country  gentleman 
converts  the  greatest  poacher  in  his  neighborhood  by  making 
him  his  gamekeeper. 

In  person  he  was  a large  and  powerfully-built  man,  consider- 
ably above  six  feet  in  height,  and  possessing  great  activity,  com- 
bined with  powers  of  enduring  fatigue  almost  incredible.  With 
an  eye  like  a hawk,  and  a heart  that  never  knew  fear,  he  was 
the  person,  of  all  others,  calculated  to  strike  terror  into  the 
minds  of  the  country  people.  The  reckless  daring  with  which 
he  threw  himself  into  danger — the  almost  impetuous  quickness 
with  which  he  followed  up  a scent,  whenever  information  reached 
him  of  an  important  character — had  their  full  effect  upon  a peo- 


DETACHMENT  DUTY. 


173 


pie  who,  long  accustomed  to  the  slowness  and  the  uncertainty 
of  the  law,  were  almost  paralyzed  at  beholding  detection  and 
punishment  follow  on  crime  as  certainly  as  the  thunder-crash 
follows  the  lightning. 

His  great  instrument  for  this  purpose  was  the  obtaining  infor- 
mation from  sworn  members  of  the  secret  societies,  and  whose 
names  never  appeared  in  the  course  of  a trial  or  a prosecution, 
until  the  measure  of  their  iniquity  was  completed,  when  they 
usually  received  a couple  of  hundred  pounds,  blood-money,  as 
it  was  called,  with  which  they  took  themselves  away  to  America 
or  Australia — their  lives  being  only  secured  while  they  remained 
by  the  shelter  afforded  them  in  the  magistrate’s  own  house.  And 
sg  it  happened  that  constantly  there  numbered  from  ten  to  twelve 
of  these  wretches,  inmates  of  his  family,  each  of  whom  had  the 
burden  of  participation  in  one  murder  at  least,  waiting  for  an 
opportunity  to  leave  the  country,  unnoticed  and  unwatched. 

Such  a frightful  and  unnatural  state  of  things  can  hardly  be 
conceived ; and  yet,  shocking  as  it  was,  it  was  a relief  to  that 
which  led  to  it.  I have  dwelt,  perhaps,  too  long  upon  this  pain- 
ful subject ; but  let  my  reader  now  accompany  me  a little  farther, 
and  the  scene  shall  be  changed.  Does  he  see  that  long,  low, 
white  house,  with  a tall,  steep  roof,  perforated  with  innumerable 
narrow  windows  ? There  are  a few  straggling  beech-trees  upon 
a low,  bleak-looking  field  before  the  house,  which  is  called  by 
courtesy  the  lawn  ; a pig  or  two,  some  geese,  and  a tethered  goat, 
are  here  and  there  musing  over  the  state  of  Ireland  ; while  some 
rosy,  curly-headed,  noisy,  and  bare-legged  urchins  are  gambol- 
ling before  the  door.  This  is  the  dwelling  of  the  worshipful 
justice,  to  which  myself  and  my  party  were  now  approaching 
with  that  degree  of  activity  which  attends  on  most  marches  ot 
twenty  miles,  under  the  oppressive  closeness  of  a day  in  autumn. 
Fatigued  and  tired  as  I was,  yet  I could  not  enter  the  little  en- 
closure before  the  house  without  stopping  for  a moment  to  ad- 
mire the  view  before  me.  It  was  a large  tract  of  rich  country, 
undulating  on  every  side,  and  teeming  with  corn-fields,  in  all  the 
yellow  gold  of  ripeness  ; here  and  there,  almost  hid  by  small 
clumps  of  ash  and  alder,  were  scattered  some  cottages,  from 
which  the  blue  smoke  rose  in  a curling  column  into  the  calm  even- 
ing sky.  All  was  graceful  and  beautifully  tranquil ; and  you  might 
have  selected  the  picture  as  emblematic  of  that  happiness  and 
repose  we  so  constantly  associate  with  our  ideas  of  the  country ; 
and  yet,  before  that  sun  had  even  set,  which  now  gilded  the 
landscape,  its  glories  would  be  replaced  by  the  lurid  glare  of 

nightly  incendiarism,  and But  here,  fortunately  for  my 

reader,  and,  perhaps,  myseJf,  I am  interrupted  in  my  meditati-ons 


174  HARRY  LORREQUER. 

by  a rich,  mellifluous  accent,  saying,  in  the  true  Doric  of  the 
south, — 

“ Mr.  Lorrequer  ! you're  welcome  to  Curryglass,  sir.  You've 
had  a hot  day  for  your  march.  Maybe  you'd  take  a taste  of 
sherry  before  dinner  ? Well  then,  we’ll  not  wait  for  Molowny, 
but  order  it  up  at  once." 

So  saying,  I was  ushered  into  a long,  low  drawing-room,  in 
which  were  collected  together  about  a dozen  men,  to  whom  I 
was  specially  and  severally  presented,  and  among  whom  I was 
happy  to  find  my  boarding-house  acquaintance,  Mr.  Daly,  who, 
with  the  others,  had  arrived  that  same  day,  for  the  assizes,  and 
who  were  all  members  of  the  legal  profession,  either  barristers, 
attorneys,  or  clerks  of  the  peace. 

The  hungry  aspect  of  the  guests,  no  less  than  the  speed  with 
which  dinner  made  its  appearance  after  my  arrival,  showed  me 
that  my  coming  was  only  waited  for  to  complete  the  party — the 
Mr.  Molowny  before  alluded  to  being  unanimously  voted  pres- 
ent. The  meal  itself  had  but  slight  pretensions  to  elegance  ; 
there  were  no  delicacies  of  Parisian  taste  ; no  triumphs  of  French 
cookery  ; but  in  their  place  stood  a lordly  fish  of  some  five-and 
twenty  pounds  weight,  a massive  sirloin,  with  all  the  usual  ar- 
mament of  fowls,  ham,  pigeon-pie,  beefsteak,  etc.,  lying  in  rather 
a promiscuous  order  along  either  side  of  the  table.  The  party 
were  evidently  disposed  to  be  satisfied,  and  I acknowledge  I did 
not  prove  an  exception  to  the  learned  individuals  about  me, 
either  in  my  relish  for  the  good  things,  or  my  appetite  to  enjoy 
them.  Dulce  est  desipere  in  loco , says  some  one,  by  which  I sup- 
pose is  meant,  that  a rather  slang  company  is  occasionally  good 
fun.  Whether  from  my  taste  for  the  “humanities"  or  not,  I am 
unable  to  say,  but  certainly,  in  my  then  humor,  I should  not 
have  exchanged  my  position  for  one  of  much  greater  pretensions 
to  elegance  and  ton . There  was  first  a general  onslaught  upon 
the  viands,  crashing  of  plates,  jingling  of  knives,  mingling  with 
requests  for  “ more  beef,"  “ the  hard  side  of  the  salmon,"  or 
“ another  slice  of  ham."  Then  came  a dropping  fire  of  drink- 
ing wine,  which  quickly  increased,  the  decanters  of  sherry  for 
about  ten  minutes  resting  upon  the  table  about  as  long  as  Tag- 
lioni  touches  this  mortal  earth  in  one  of  her  flying  movements. 
Acquaintances  were  quickly  formed  between  the  members  of  the 
bar  and  myself,  and  I found  that  my  momentary  popularity  was 
likely  to  terminate  in  my  downfall ; for,  as  each  introduction  was 
followed  by  a bumper  of  strong  sherry,  I did  not  expect  to  last 
till  the  end  of  the  feast.  The  cloth  at  length  disappeared,  and  I 
was  just  thanking  Providence  for  the  respite  from  hob-nobbing 
which  T imagined  was  to  follow,  when  a huge,  square  decanter  of 


DETACHMENT  DUTY \ 


T75 


whisky  appeared,  flanked  by  an  enormous  jug  of  boiling  water, 
and  renewed  preparations  for  drinking  upon  a large  scale  serious- 
ly commenced.  It  was  just  at  this  moment  that  I,  for  the  first 
time,  perceived  the  rather  remarkable  figure  who  had  waited 
upon  us  at  dinner,  and  who  while  I chronicle  so  many  things  of 
little  import,  deserves  a slight  mention.  He  was  a little  old 
man  of  about  fifty-five  or  sixty  years,  wearing  upon  his  head  a 
barrister’s  wig,  and  habited  in  clothes  which  originally  had  been 
the  costume  of  a very  large  and  bulky  person,  and  which,  con- 
sequently, added  much  to  the  drollery  of  his  appearance.  He 
had  been,  for  forty  years,  the  servant  of  Judge  Vandeleur,  and 
had  entered  his  present  service  rather  in  the  light  of  a precep- 
tor than  a menial,  invariably  dictating  to  the  worthy  justice 
upon  every  occasion  of  etiquette  or  propriety,  by  a reference  to 
what  “ the  judge  himself  ” did,  which  always  sufficed  to  carry  the 
day  in  Nicholas’s  favor,  opposition  to  so  correct  a standard 
never  being  thought  of  by  the  justice. 

“ That’s  Billy  Crow’s  own  whisky,  the  4 small  still,'  ” said 
Nicholas,  placing  the  decanter  upon  the  table;  “ make  much 
of  it,  for  there  isn’t  such  dew  in  the  county.” 

With  this  commendation  upon  the  liquor,  Nicholas  departed, 
and  we  proceeded  to  fill  our  glasses. 

I cannot  venture — perhaps  it  is  so  much  the  better  that  I 
cannot — to  give  any  idea  of  the  conversation  which  at  once 
broke  out,  as  if  the  barriers  that  restrained  it  had  at  length 
given  way.  But  lawdalk,  in  all  its  plenitude,  followed  ; and  for 
two  hours  I heard  of  nothing  but  writs,  detainers,  declarations, 
traverses  in  prox,  and  alibis,  with  sundry  hints  for  qui  tam  proc- 
esses, interspersed,  occasionally,  with  sly  jokes  about  packing 
juries  and  confounding  witnesses,  among  which  figured  the 
usual  number  of  good  things  attributed  to  the  Chief  Baron 
O’Grady  and  the  other  sayers  of  smart  sayings  at  the  bar. 

“ Ah  ! ” said  Mr.  Daly,  drawing  a deep  sigh  at  the  same  in- 
stant— “ the  bar  is  sadly  fallen  off  since  I was  called  in  the  year 
’76.  There  was  not  a leader  in  one  of  the  circuits  at  that  time 
that  couldn’t  puzzle  any  jury  that  ever  sat  in  a box;  and  as  for 
driving  through  an  act  of  parliament,  it  was,  as  Sancho  Panza 
says,  cakes  and  gingerbread  to  them.  And  then,  there  is  one 
especial  talent  lost  forever  to  the  present  generation — just  like 
stained  glass  and  illuminated  manuscripts,  and  slow  poisons  and 
the  like — that  were  all  known  years  ago — I mean  the  beautiful 
art  of  addressing  the  judge  befoe  the  jury,  and  not  letting  them 
know  you  were  quizzing  them,  if  ye  like  to  do  that  same.  Poor 
Peter  Purcell  for  that — rest  his  ashe^ — he  could  cheat  the  devil 


176 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


himself  if  he  had  need — and  maybe  he  has  had,  before  now 
Peter  is  sixteen  years  dead  last  November.” 

“And  what  was  Peter’s  peculiar  tact  in  that  respect,  Mr. 
Daly  ? ” said  I. 

“ Oh,  then,  I might  try  for  hours  to  explain  it  to  you  in  vain ; 
but  I’ll  just  give  you  an  instance  that’ll  show  you  better  than  all 
my  dissertations  on  the  subject,  and  I was  present  myself  when 
it  happened,  more  by  token,  it  was  the  first  time  I ever  met  him 
on  circuit. 

“ I suppose  there  is  scarcely  any  one  here  now,  except  myself, 
that  remembers  the  great  cause  of  Mills  versus  Mulcahy,  a 
widow,  and  others,  that  was  tried  at  Ennis,  in  the  year  ’82.  It’s 
no  matter  if  there  is  not.  Perhaps  it  may  be  more  agreeable  for 
me,  for  I can  tell  my  story  in  my  own  way,  and  not  be  inter- 
rupted. Well,  that  was  called  4 The  old  record,’  for  they  tried 
it  seventeen  times.  I believe,  on  my  conscience,  it  killed  old 
Jones,  who  was  in  the  Common  Pleas ; he  used  to  say,  if  he  put 
it  for  trial  on  the  day  of  judgment,  one  of  the  parties  would  be 
sure  to  lodge  an  appeal.  Be  that,  as  it  may,  the  Millses  engaged 
Peter  special,  and  brought  him  down  with  a great  retainer,  in  a 
chaise-and-four,  flags  flying,  and  favors  in  the  postilions’  hats, 
and  a fiddler  on  the  roof,  playing  the  4 Hare  in  the  Corn.’  The 
inn  was  illuminated  the  same  evening,  and  Peter  made  a speech 
from  the  windows  upon  the  liberty  of  the  press  and  religious 
freedom  all  over  the  globe,  and  there  wasn’t  a man  in  the  mob 
didn’t  cheer  him,  which  was  the  more  civil,  because  few  of  them 
knew  a word  of  English,  and  the  others  thought  he  was  a play- 
actor. But  it  all  went  off  well,  nevertheless,  for  Peter  was  a 
clever  fellow;  and  although  he  liked  money  well,  he  liked 
popularity  more,  and  he  never  went  anywhere  4 special  * that  he 
hadn’t  a public  meeting  of  some  kind  or  other,  either  to  abolish 
rents,  or  suppress  parsons,  or  some  such  popular  and  beneficial 
scheme,  which  always  made  him  a great  favorite  with  the  people, 
and  got  him  plenty  of  clients.  But  I am  wandering  from  the 
record.  Purcell  came  down,  as  I said  before,  special  for  Mills ; 
and  when  he  looked  over  his  brief,  and  thought  of  the  case, 
he  determined  to  have  it  tried  by  a gentleman  jury,  for  although 
he  was  a great  man  with  the  mob,  he  liked  the  country  gentle- 
men better  in  the  jury-box,  for  he  was  always  coming  out  with 
quotations  from  the  classics,  which,  whether  the  grand  jury 
understood  or  not,  they  always  applauded  very  much.  Well, 
when  he  came  into  court  that  morning,  you  may  guess  his  sur- 
prise and  mortification  to  find  that  the  same  jury  that  had  tried 
a common  ejectment  case  were  still  in  the  box.  and  waiting,  by 


DETACHMENT  DUTY. 


177 


the  Chief  Justice’s  direction,  to  try  Mills  versus  Mulcahy,  the 
great  case  of  the  assizes. 

“ I hear  they  were  a set  of  common  clod-hopping  wretches, 
with  frieze  coats  and  brogues,  that  no  man  could  get  round  at  all, 
for  they  were  as  cunning  as  foxes,  and  could  tell  blarney  from 
good  sense,  rather  better  than  people  with  better  coats  on  them. 

“ Now,  the  moment  that  Mr.  Purcell  came  into  the  court, 
after  bowing  politely  to  the  judge,  he  looked  up  to  the  box,  and 
when  he  saw  the  dirty  faces  of  the  dealers  in  pork  and  potatoes, 
and  the  unshaven  chins  of  the  small  farmers,  his  heart  fell  with- 
in him,  and  he  knew  in  a minute  how  little  they’d  care  for  the 
classics — if  he  quoted  4 Caesar’s  Commentaries  ’ itself  for  them 
— ignorant  creatures  as  they  were  ! 

“ Well,  the  cause  was  called,  and  up  gets  Peter,  and  he  began 
to  4 express  ’ (as  he  always  called  it  himself)  4 the  great  distress 
his  client  and  himself  would  labor  under,  if  the  patient  and 
most  intelligent  jury  then  on  the  panel  should  come  to  the  con- 
sideration of  so  very  tedious  a case  as  this  promised  to  be,  after 
their  already  most  fatiguing  exertions  ; ’ he  commented  upon 
their  absence  from  their  wives  and  families,  their  farms  neg- 
lected, their  crops  hazarded,  and  in  about  fifteen  minutes  he 
showed  them  they  were,  if  not  speedily  released  and  sent  home, 
worse  treated  and  harder  used  than  many  of  the  prisoners  con- 
demned to  three  months’  imprisonment ; and  actually  so  far 
worked  upon  the  feelings  of  the  chief  himself,  that  he  turned  to 
the  foreman  of  the  jury,  and  said,  4 that  although  it  was  a great 
deviation  from  his  habitual  practice,  if  at  this  pressing  season 
their  prospects  were  involved  to  the  extent  the  learned  counsel 
had  pictured,  why  then,  he  would  so  far  bend  his  practice  on 
this  occasion,  and  they  should  be  dismissed.’  Now  Peter,  I 
must  confess,  here  showed  the  most  culpable  ignorance  in  not 
knowing  that  a set  of  country  fellows,  put  up  in  a jury  box, 
would  rather  let  every  blade  of  corn  rot  in  the  ground  than  give 
up  what  they  always  supposed  so  very  respectable  an  appoint- 
ment ; for  they  invariably  imagine  in  these  cases  that  they  are 
something  very  like  my  lord  the  judge,  4barrin’  the  ermine;’ 
besides,  that  on  the  present  occasion,  Peter’s  argument  in  their 
favor  decided  them  upon  staying,  for  they  now  felt  like  martyrs, 
and  firmly  believed  that  they  were  putting  the  chief  justice 
under  an  obligation  to  them  for  life. 

44  When,  therefore,  they  heard  the  question  of  the  court,  it  did 
not  take  a moment’s  time  for  the  whole  body  to  rise  en  masse , 
and  bowing  to  the  judge,  call  out,  4 We’ll  stay,  my  lord,  and  try 
every  mother’s  son  of  them  for  you ; ay,  if  it  lasted  till  Christ- 
mas.’ 


178 


HARRY  L ORREQUER . 


“ 4 I am  sure,  my  lord,’  said  Peter,  collecting  himself  for  an 
effort,  4 I cannot  sufficiently  express  my  gratitude  for  the  great 
sacrifice  these  gifted  and  highly  intelligent  gentlemen  are  mak- 
ing in  my  client’s  behalf ; for  being  persons  who  have  great  in- 
terests in  the  country  at  stake,  their  conduct  on  the  present 
occasion  is  the  more  praiseworthy ; and  I am  certain  they  fully 
appreciate,  as  does  your  lordship,  the  difficulty  of  the  case  be- 
fore us,  when  documents  will  be  submitted,  requiring  a certain 
degree  of  acquaintance  with  such  testimonials  sufficiently  to  com- 
prehend. Many  of  the  title-deeds,  as  your  lordship  is  aware,  being 
obtained  under  old  abbey  charters,  are  in  the  learned  languages  ; 
and  we  all  know  how  home  to  our  hearts  and  bosoms  comes 
the  beautiful  line  of  the  Greek  poet,  “ Vacuus  viator  cantabit 
ante  latronem.”  ’ The  sound  of  the  quotation  roused  the  chief 
justice,  who  had  been  in  some  measure  inattentive  to  the  pre- 
ceding part  of  the  learned  counsePs  address,  and  he  called  out 
rather  sharply,  4 Greek ! Mr.  Purcell — why,  I must  have  mis- 
taken— will  you  repeat  the  passage  ? ’ 

“ 4 With  pleasure,  my  lord.  I was  just  observing  to  your 
lordship  and  the  jury,  with  the  eloquent  poet  Hergesius,  “ Va- 
cuus viator  cantabit  ante  latronem.”  ’ 

“ 4 Greek,  did  you  call  it  ? ’ 

44  4 Yes,  my  lord,  of  course  I did.’ 

“ 4 Why,  Mr.  Purcell,  you  are  quoting  Latin  to  me — and  what 
do  you  mean  by  talking  of  the  learned  Hergesius  and  Greek 
all  this  time  ? — the  line  is  Juvenal’s.’ 

“ 4 My  lord,  with  much  submission  to  your  lordship,  and  every 
deference  to  your  great  attainments  and  very  superior  talents, 
let  me  still  assure  you  that  I am  quoting  Greek,  and  that  your 
lordship  is  in  error.’ 

44  4 Mr.  Purcell,  I have  only  to  remark  that  if  you  are  desirous 
to  make  a jest  of  the  court,  you  had  better  be  cautious,  I say, 
sir ; ’ and  here  the  judge  waxed  exceeding  wroth.  4 1 say  the 
line  is  Latin — Latin,  sir — Juvenal’s  Latin,  sir — every  schoolboy 
knows  it.’ 

4 4 4 Of  course,  my  lord,’  said  Peter,  with  great  humility,  4 1 bow 
myself  to  the  decision  of  your  lordship ; the  line  is,  therefore, 
Latin.  Yet  I may  be  permitted  to  hint  that  were  your  lordship 
disposed  to  submit  this  question,  as  you  are  shortly  about  to  do 
another  and  a similar  one,  to  those  clear-sighted  and  intelligent 
gentlemen  there,  I am  satisfied,  my  lord,  it  would  be  Greek  to 
every  man  of  them.’ 

44  The  look,  the  voice,  and  the  peculiar  emphasis  with  which 
Peter  gave  these  words  were  perfectly  successful.  The  acute 
judge  anticipated  the  wish  of  the  counsel — the  jury  were  dis- 


THE  ASSIZE  TOWN. \ 


m 


missed,  and  Peter  proceeded  to  his  case  before  those  he  knew 
better  how  to  deal  with,  and  with  whom  the  result  was  more 
certain  to  be  as  he  wished  it.” 

To  this  anecdote  of  the  counsellor  succeeded  many  others,  of 
which,  as  the  whiskey  was  potent  and  the  hour  late,  my  memory 
is  not  over  retentive : the  party  did  not  break  up  till  near  four 
o’clock,  and  even  then,  our  seance  onl)/  concluded  because  some 
one  gravely  remarked,  “ that  as  we  should  be  all  actively  en- 
gaged on  the  morrow,  early  hours  were  advisable.” 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE  ASSIZE  TOWN. 

I had  not  been  above  a week  in  my  new  quarters  when  my 
servant  presented  me,  among  my  letters  one  morning,  with  a 
packet,  which,  with  considerable  pains,  I at  length  recognized 
to  be  directed  to  me.  The  entire  envelope  was  covered  with 
writing  in  various  hands,  among  which  I detected  something 
which  bore  a faint  resemblance  to  my  name  ; but  the  address 
which  followed  was  perfectly  unreadable,  not  only  to  me,  as  it 
appeared,  but  also  to  the  “experts  ” of  the  different  post-offices, 
for  it  had  been  followed  by  sundry  directions  to  try  various 
places  beginning  with  T,  which  seemed  to  be  the  letter  com- 
mencing the  “ great  unknown  locality ; ” thus  I read,  “ Try 
Tralee,”  “ Try  Tyrone,”  “Try  Tanderagee,”  etc.,  etc.  I wonder 
that  they  didn’t  add,  “ Try  Teheran,”  and  I suppose  they  would 
at  last,  rather  than  abandon  the  pursuit. 

“ But,  Stubbes,”  said  I,  as  I conned  over  the  various  ad- 
dresses on  this  incomprehensible  cover,  “ are  you  sure  this  is 
for  me  ? ” 

“ The  postmaster,  sir,  desired  me  to  ask  if  you’d  have  it,  for 
he  has  offered  it  to  every  one  down  in  these  parts  lately  ; the 
waterguard  officers  will  take  it  at  8d.,  sir,  if  you  won’t,  but  I 
begged  you  might  have  the  refusal.” 

“ Oh  ! very  well ; I am  happy  to  find  matters  are  managed  so 
impartially  in  the  post-office  here.  Nothing  like  a public  auction 
for  making  matters  find  their  true  level.  Tell  the  postmaster, 
then,  I’ll  keep  the  letter,  and  the  rather,  as  it  happens,  by  good 
luck,  to  be  intended  for  me.” 

“ And  now  for  the  interior,”  said  I,  as  I broke  the  seaL  and 
read : — * 


i So 


HARRY  L ORREQ  UER . 


“ Paris,  Rue  Castiglione. 

“My  DEAR  Mr.  Lorrequer,—  As  her  ladyship  and  my  son 
have  in  vain  essayed  to  get  anything  from  you  in  the  shape  of  reply 
to  their  letters,  it  has  devolved  upon  me  to  try  my  fortune,  which, 
were  I to  augur  from  the  legibility  of  my  writing,  may  not,  I 

should  fear,  prove  more  successful  than  the  ” (what  can  the 

word  be  ?) “ the — the  ” — (why,  it  can’t  be  damnable,  surely  ? 

— no,  it  is  amiable,  I see) — “ than  the  amiable  epistle  of  my 
lady.  I cannot,  however,  permit  myself  to  leave  this  without 
apprising  you  that  we  are  about  to  start  for  Baden,  where  we 
purpose  remaining  a month  or  two.  Your  cousin  Guy,  who  has 
been  staying  for  some  time  with  us,  has  been  obliged  to  set  out 
for  Geneva,  but  hopes  to  join  in  some  weeks  hence.  He  is  a 
great  favorite  with  us  all,  but  has  not  effaced  the  memory  of 
our  older  friend,  yourself.  Could  you  not  find  means  to  come 
over  and  see  us,  if  only  a flying  visit  ? Rotterdam  is  the  route, 
and  a few  days  would  bring  you  to  our  quarters.  Hoping  that 
you  may  feel  so  disposed,  I have  enclosed  herewith  a letter  to 
the  Horse  Guards,  which  I trust  may  facilitate  your  obtaining 
leave  of  absence.  I know  of  no  other  mode  of  making  your 
peace  with  the  ladies,  who  are  too  highly  incensed  at  your  de- 
sertion to  send  one  civil  postscript  to  this  letter,  and  Kilkee 
and  myself  are  absolutely  exhausted  in  our  defence  of  you. 

“ Believe  me,  yours  truly, 

“ Callonby.,) 

Had  I received  an  official  notification  of  my  being  appointed 
paymaster  to  the  forces,  or  chaplain  to  Chelsea  Hospital,  I be- 
lieve  I should  have  received  the  information  with  less  surprise 
than  I perused  this  letter.  That,  after  the  long  interval  which 
had  elapsed,  during  which  I had  considered  myself  totally  for- 
gotten by  this  family,  I should  now  receive  a letter — and  such  a 
letter,  too — quite  in  the  vein  of  our  former  intimacy  and  good 
feeling,  inviting  me  to  their  house,  and  again  professing  their 
willingness  that  I should  be  on  the  terms  of  our  old  familiarity, 
was  little  short  of  wonderful  to  me.  I read,  too — with  what 
pleasure  1 — that  slight  mention  of  my  cousin,  whom  I had  so 
long  regarded  as  my  successful  rival,  but  who  I began  now  to 
hope  had  not  been  preferred  to  me.  Perhaps  it  was  not  yet  too 
late  to  think  that  all  was  not  hopeless.  It  appeared,  too,  that 
several  letters  had  been  written  which  had  never  reached  me  ; 
so,  while  I accused  them  of  neglect  and  forgetfulness,  I was 
really  more  amenable  to  the  charge  myself  ; for,  from  the  mo- 
ment I had  heard  of  my  cousin  Guy’s  having  been  domesticated 
amongst  them,  and  the  rumors  of  his  marriage  had  reached  me, 


THE  ASSIZE  TOWN. 


181 


I suffered  my  absurd  jealousy  to  blind  my  reason,  and  never 
wrote  another  line  after.  I ought  to  have  known  how  “ bavard  ” 
Guy  always  was  ; that  he  never  met  with  the  most  commonplace 
attentions  anywhere,  that  he  did  not  immediately  write  home 
about  settlements  and  pin-money,  and  portions  for  younger  chil- 
dren, and  all  that  sort  of  nonsense.  Now  I saw  it  all  plainly, 
and  ten  thousand  times  quicker  than  my  hopes  were  extinguished 
before  they  were  again  kindled,  and  I could  not  refrain  from 
regarding  Lady  Jane  as  a mirror  of  constancy,  and  myself  the 
most  fortunate  man  in  Europe.  My  old  castle-building  propen- 
sities came  back  upon  me  in  an  instant,  and  I pictured  myself, 
with  Lady  Jane  as  my  companion,  wandering  among  the  beauti- 
ful scenery  of  the  Neckar,  beneath  the  lofty  ruins  of  Heidelberg, 
or  skimming  the  placid  surface  of  the  Rhine,  while,  “ mellowed 
by  distance,”  came  the  rich  chorus  of  a student’s  melody,  filling 
the  air  with  its  flood  of  song.  How  delightful,  I thought,  to  be 
reading  the  lyrics  of  Uhland,  or  Burger,  with  one  so  capable  of 
appreciating  them,  with  all  the  hallowed  associations  of  the 
“ Vaterland  ” about  us  ! “ Yes,”  said  I,  aloud,  repeating  the 

well-known  line  of  a German  “ Lied  ” : — 

“Bekranzt  mit  Laub,  den  lie  ben  vollen  Becher.” 

“ Upon  my  conscience,”  said  Mr,  Daly,  who  h&d  for  some 
time  past  been  in  silent  admiration  of  my  stage-struck  appear- 
ance— “ upon  my  conscience,  Mr.  Lorrequer,  I had  no  conception 
you  knew  Irish.” 

The  mighty  talisman  of  the  counsellor’s  voice  brought  me 
back  in  a moment  to  a consciousness  of  where  I was  then  stand- 
ing, and  the  still  more  unfortunate  fact  that  I was  only  a subal- 
tern in  his  Majesty’s  4 — th. 

“ Why,  my  dear  counsellor,  that  was  German  I was  quoting, 
not  Irish.” 

“With  all  my  heart,”  said  Mi.  Daly, — breaking  the  top  off 
his  third  egg, — “ with  all  my  heart ; I’d  rather  you’d  talk  it  than 
me.  Much  conversation  in  that  tongue,  I’m  thinking,  would  be 
mighty  apt  to  loosen  one’s  teeth.” 

“ Not  at  all ; it  is  the  most  beautiful  language  in  Europe,  and 
the  most  musical  too.  Why,  even  for  your  own  peculiar  taste 
in  such  matters,  where  can  you  find  any  language  so  rich  in 
Bacchanalian  songs  as  German  ? ” 

“ I’d  rather  hear  the  4 Cruiskeen  Lawn,’  or  the  ‘ Jug  of  Punch/ 
as  my  old  friend  Pat  Samson  could  sing  them,  than  a score  of 
your  high  Dutch  jawbreakers.” 

“ Shame  upon  ye,  Mr.  Daly ; and  for  pathos,  for  true  feeling, 
where  is  there  anything  equal  to  Schiller’s  ballads  ? ” 


182 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


“ I don’t  think  I’ve  ever  heard  any  of  his  ; but  if  you  will  talk  of 
ballads,”  said  the  counsellor,  “give  me  old  Mosey  M^Garry’s  : 
what’s  finer  than  ” — (and  here  he  began,  with  a most  nasal 
twang  and  dolorous  emphasis,  to  sing) — 

“ And  I stepp’d  up  unto  her, 

An’  I made  a congee — 

And  I ax’d  her  her  pardon 
For  the  making  so  free. 

“ And  then  the  next  verse  she  says — 

“ Are  you  goin’  to  undo  me, 

In  this  desert  alone  ? — 

There’s  a shake  there.’1 

“ For  Heaven’s  sake,”  I cried,  “ stop  ; when  I spoke  of  bal- 
lads, I never  meant  such  infernal  stuff  as  that.” 

“ I’ll  not  give  up  my  knowledge  of  ballads  to  any  man  break  - 
ing,” said  Mr.  Daly  ; “ and  with  God’s  blessing,  I’ll  sing  you 
one  this  evening,  after  dinner,  that  will  give  you  a cramp  in  the 
stomach.” 

An  animated  discussion  upon  lyrical  poetry  was  here  inter- 
rupted by  a summons  from  our  host  to  set  out  for  the  town. 
My  party  were,  by  the  desire  of  the  magistracy,  to  be  in  readi- 
ness near  the  court-house,  in  the  event  of  any  serious  disturb- 
ance, which  there  existed  but  too  much  reason  to  apprehend 
from  the  highly  excited  state  of  feeling  on  the  subject  of  the 
approaching  trials.  The  soldiers  were,  under  the  guidance  oF 
Mr.  Larkins,  safely  ensconced  in  a tan-yard  ; and  I myself  hav- 
ing consigned  them  for  the  present  to  a non-commissioned  offi- 
cer, was  left  at  perfect  liberty  to  dispose  of  my  time  and  person 
as  it  might  please  me. 

While  these  arrangements  were  taking  place,  I had  entirely 
lost  sight  of  Mr.  Daly,  under  whose  guidance  and  protection  I 
trusted  to  obtain  a place  within  the  bar  to  hear  the  trials  ; so 
that  I was  now  perfectly  alone,  for  my  host’s  numerous  avoca- 
tions entirely  precluded  any  thought  of  my  putting  myself  under 
his  care. 

My  first  object  was  to  reach  the  court-house,  and  there  could 
be  little  difficulty  in  finding  it,  for  the  throng  of  persons  in  the 
street  were  all  eagerly  bending  their  way  thither.  I accordingly 
followed  with  the  stream,  and  soon  found  myself  among  an 
enormous  multitude  of  frieze-coated  and  red-cloaked  people,  of 
both  sexes,  in  a large  open  square,  which  formed  the  market' 
place,  one  side  of  which  was  flanked  by  the  court-house — for  as 


THE  ASSIZE  TOWN. 


i*3 

such  I immediately  recognized  a massive-looking  gray  stone 
building — in  which  the  numerous  windows,  all  open  and  filled 
with  people,  exhaled  a continued  steam  from  the  crowded 
atmosphere  within.  To  approach  it  was  perfectly  impossible  : for 
the  square  was  packed  so  closely,  that  as  the  people  ap- 
proached by  the  various  streets,  they  were  obliged  to  stand  in 
the  avenues  leading  to  it,  and  regard  what  was  going  on  from  a 
distance.  Of  this  large  multitude  I soon  became  one,  hoping 
that  at  length  some  fortunate  opportunity  might  enable  me  to 
obtain  admission  through  some  of  my  legal  acquaintances. 

That  the  fate  of  those  who  were  then  upon  their  trial  for 
their  lives  absorbed  the  entire  feeling  of  those  without,  a mo- 
mentary glance  at  the  hundreds  of  anxious  and  careworn  faces  in 
the  crowd  would  completely  satisfy.  Motionless  and  silent  they 
stood  : they  felt  no  fatigue — no  want  of  food  or  refreshment — 
their  interest  was  one  and  undivided — all  their  hopes  and  fears 
were  centred  in  the  events  then  passing  at  a short  distance  from 
them,  but  to  which  their  ignorance  imparted  an  additional  and 
more  painful  excitement — the  only  information  of  how  matters 
were  going  on  being  by  an  occasional  word,  sometimes  a mere 
gesture,  from  someone  stationed  in  the  windows  to  a friend  in 
the  crowd. 

When  the  contemplation  of  this  singularly  impressive  scene 
was  beginning  to  weary  from  the  irksomeness  of  my  position, 
I thought  of  retiring,  but  soon  discovered  how  impossible  was 
such  a step.  The  crowd  had  blocked  up  so  completely  all  the 
avenues  of  approach,  that  even  had  I succeeded  in  getting  from 
the  market-place,  it  would  be  only  to  remain  firmly  impacted 
among  the  mob  in  the  street. 

It  now  also  occurred  to  me,  that  although  I had  been  assured 
by  Larkins  no  call  could  possibly  be  made  upon  my  services 
or  those  of  my  party  till  after  the  trial,  yet  were  that  to  conclude 
at  any  moment,  I should  be  perfectly  unable  to  gain  the  place 
where  I had  stationed  them,  and  the  most  serious  consequences 
might  ensue  from  the  absence  of  their  officer  if  the  men  were  re- 
quired to  act. 

From  the  time  this  thought  took  possession  of  me,  I became 
excessively  uncomfortable.  Every  expression  of  the  people  that 
denoted  the  progress  of  the  trial  only  alarmed  me  for  the  conclu- 
sion, which  I supposed  might  not  be  distant,  and  I began,  with 
all  my  ingenuity,  to  attempt  my  retreat,  which,  after  half  an 
hour’s  severe  struggle,  I completely  abandoned,  finding  myself 
scarcely  ten  yards  from  where  I started. 

At  length  the  counsel  for  the  Crown,  who  had  been  speaking 
to  evidence,  ceased  ; and  an  indistinct  murmur  was  heard  through 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


184 

the  court-house,  which  was  soon  repressed  by  the  voice  of  the 
crier  calling  “ Silence  ! ” All  now  seemed  still  and  silent  as 
the  grave — yet,  on  listening  attentively,  for  some  time,  you  could 
catch  the  low  tones  of  a voice  speaking,  as  it  appeared,  with 
great  deliberation  and  slowness.  This  was  the  judge  address- 
ing the  jury.  In  a short  time  this  also  ceased  ; and,  for  about 
half  an  hour,  the  silence  was  perfectly  unbroken,  and  both  within 
and  without  there  reigned  one  intense  and  aching  sense  of  anx- 
iety that  absorbed  every  feeling,  and  imparted  to  every  face  an 
expression  of  almost  agonizing  uncertainty.  It  was,  indeed,  a 
moment  well  calculated  to  excite  such  emotions.  The  jury  had 
retired  to  deliberate  upon  their  verdict.  At  length  a door  was 
heard  to  open,  and  the  footsteps  of  the  jury,  as  they  resumed 
their  places,  sounded  through  the  court,  and  were  heard  by  those 
without.  How  heavily  upon  many  a stout  heart  those  footsteps 
fell!  They  had  taken  their  seats — then  came  another  pause — 
after  which  the  monotonous  tones  of  the  clerk  of  the  court  were 
heard,  addressing  the  jury  .for  their  verdict.  As  the  foreman 
rises  every  ear  is  bent — every  eye  strained — every  heartstring 
vibrates  : his  lips  move,  but  he  is  not  heard  ; he  is  desired  by  the 
judge  to  speak  louder ; there  is  another  pause — he  appears  to 
labor  for  a few  seconds  with  a mighty  effort,  and,  at  last,  pro 
nounces  the  words,  “ Guilty,  my  lord — all  guilty  ! ” 

I have  heard  the  wild  war-whoop  of  the  Red  Indian,  as,  in  his 
own  pine  forest,  he  has  unexpectedly  come  upon  the  track  of  his 
foe,  and  the  almost  extinguished  hope  of  vengeance  has  been 
kindled  again  in  his  cruel  heart — I have  listened  to  the  scarcely 
less  savage  hurra  of  a storming  party,  as  they  have  surmounted  the 
crumbling  ruins  of  a breach,  and  devoted  to  fire  and  sword,  with 
that  one  yell,  all  who  await  them — and  once  in  my  life  it  has 
been  my  fortune  to  have  heard  the  last  yell  of  defiance  from  a 
pirate  crew,  as  they  sank  beneath  the  raking  fire  of  a frigate, 
rather  than  surrender,  and  went  down  with  a cheer  of  defiance 
that  rose  even  above  the  red  artillery  that  destroyed  but  could  not 
subdue  them  ; — but  never,  in  any  or  all  of  these  awful  moments, 
did  my  heart  vibrate  to  such  sounds  as  rent  the  air  when  the 
fatal  “ Guilty  ” was  heard  by  those  within,  and  repeated  to 
those  without.  It  was  not  grief — it  was  not  despair — neither 
was  it  the  cry  of  sharp  and  irrepressible  anguish,  from  a suddenly 
blighted  hope — but  it  was  the  long  pent-up  and  carefully-con- 
cealed burst  of  feeling  which  called  aloud  for  vengeance — red 
and  reeking  revenge  upon  all  who  had  been  instrumental  in  the 
sentence  then  delivered.  It  ceased,  and  I looked  towards  the 
court-house,  expecting  that  an  immediate  and  desperate  attack 
upon  the  building  and  those  whom  it  contained  would  at  once 


THE  ASSIZE  TOWN. 


185 

^ake  place.  But  nothing  of  the  kind  ensued  ; the  mob  were 
already  beginning  to  disperse,  and  before  I recovered  perfectly 
from  the  excitement  of  these  few  and  terrible  moments,  the 
square  was  nearly  empty,  and  I almost  felt  as  if  the  wild  and 
frantic  denunciation  that  still  rang  through  my  ears  had  been 
conjured  up  by  a heated  and  fevered  imagination. 

When  I again  met  our  party  at  the  dinner  table,  I could  not 
help  feeling  surprised  on  perceiving  how  little  they  sympathized 
in  my  feeling  for  the  events  of  the  day ; which,  indeed,  they 
only  alluded  to  in  a professional  point  of  view — criticizing  the 
speeches  of  the  counsel  on  both  sides,  and  the  character  of  the 
different  witnesses  who  were  examined. 

“ Well,”  said  Mr.  Daly,  addressing  our  host,  “ you  never  could 
have  had  a conviction  to-day  if  it  wasn’t  for  Mike.  He’s  the 
best  evidence  I ever  heard.  I’d  like  to  know  very  much  how 
you  ever  got  so  clever  a fellow  completely  in  your  clutches  ? ” 

“ By  a mere  accident,  and  very  simply,”  replied  the  justice. 
“ It  was  upon  one  of  our  most  crowded  fair  days — half  the 
county  was  in  town,  when  the  information  arrived  that  the 
Walshes  were  murdered  the  night  before  at  the  cross-roads 
above  Telenamuck  mills.  The  news  reached  me  as  I was  sign- 
ing some  tithe  warrants,  one  of  which  was  against  Mickey. 
I sent  for  him  into  the  office ; knowing  that,  as  he  was  in  the 
secret  of  all  the  evil  doings,  I might  as  well  pretend  to  do  him 
a service,  and  offer  to  stop  the  warrant  out  of  kindness,  as  it 
were.  Well,  one  way  or  another,  he  was  kept  waiting  several 
hours  while  I was  engaged  in  writing,  and  all  the  country 
people,  as  they  passed  the  window,  could  look  in  and  see 
Mickey  Sheehan  standing  before  me,  while  I was  employed 
busily  writing  letters.  It  was  just  at  this  time  that  a mounted 
policeman  rode  in  with  the  account  of  the  murder  ; upon  which 
I immediately  issued  a warrant  to  arrest  the  two  Mac-Neills 
and  Owen  Shirley  upon  suspicion.  I thought  I saw  Mike  turn 
pale  as  I said  the  names  over  to  the  sergeant  of  police,  and  I 
at  once  determined  to  turn  it  to  account ; so  I immediately 
began  talking  to  Mickey  about  his  own  affairs,  breaking  off, 
every  now  and  then,  to  give  some  directions  about  the  men  to 
be  captured.  The  crowd  outside  was  increasing  every  instant, 
and  you  need  not  have  looked  at  their  faces  twice  to  perceive 
that  they  had  regarded  Mickey  as  an  approver ; and  the  same 
night  that  saw  the  Mac-Neills  in  custody,  witnessed  the  burning 
of  Sheehan’s  house  and  haggart,  and  he  only  escaped  by  a 
miracle  over  to  Curryglass,  where,  once  under  my  protection, 
with  the  imputation  upon  his  character  ot  having  turned  king’s 
evidence,  I had  little  trouble  in  persuading  him  that  he  might 


i86 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


as  well  benefit  by  the  report  as  enjoy  the  name  without  the 
gain.  He  soon  complied,  and  the  convictions  of  this  day  are 
partly  the  result.” 

When  the  applause  which  greeted  this  clever  stroke  of  our 
host  had  subsided,  I inquired  what  results  might,  in  all  likeli- 
hood, follow  the  proceedings  of  which  I had  that  day  been  a 
witness. 

44  Nothing  will  be  done  immediately,”  replied  the  justice, 
44  because  we  have  a large  force  of  police  and  military  about 
us  ; but  let  either,  or  unhappily  both,  be  withdrawn,  and  the 
cry  you  heard  given  in  the  market-place  to-day  will  be  the 
death-wail  for  more  than  one  of  those  who  are  well  and  hearty 
at  this  moment.” 

The  train  of  thought  inevitably  forced  upon  me  by  all  I had 
been  a spectator  of  during  the  day  but  little  disposed  me  to  be 
a partaker  in  the  mirth  and  conviviality  which,  as  usual,  formed 
the  staple  of  the  assize  dinners  of  Mr.  Larkins  ; and  I accordingly 
took  an  early  opportunity  to  quit  the  company  and  retire  for  the 
night. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

A DAY  IN  DUBLIN. 

On  the  third  day  of  my  residence  at  Curryglass,  arrived  my 
friend  Mortimer  to  replace  me,  bringing  my  leave  from  the 
colonel,  and  a most  handsome  letter,  in  which  he  again  glanced 
at  the  prospect  before  me  in  the  Callonby  family,  and  hinted 
at  my  destination,  which  I had  not  alluded  to,  adding,  that  if  I 
made  the  pretence  of  study  in  Germany  the  reason  for  my  ap- 
plication at  the  Horse  Guards,  I should  be  almost  certain  to  ob- 
tain a six  months'  leave.  With  what  spirits  I ordered  Stubbes 
to  pack  up  my  portmanteah,  and  secure  our  places  in  the  Dublin 
mail  for  that  night,  while  I myself  hurried  to  take  leave  of  my 
kind  entertainer  and  his  guests,  as  well  as  to  recommend  to 
their  favor  and  attention  my  excellent  friend  Mortimer.  He, 
being  a jovial  fellow,  not  at  all  in  love,  was  a happy  exchange 
for  me,  since,  despite  Daly's  capital  stories,  I had  spent  the  last 
two  days  in  watching  the  high  road  for  my  successor's  arrival. 

Once  more,  then,  I bade  adieu  to  Curryglass  and  its  hospitable 
owner,  whose  labors  for  44  justice  to  Ireland  ” I shall  long  re- 
member, and  depositing  myself  in  the  bowels  of  His  Majesty’s 
mail,  gave  way  to  the  full  current  of  my  hopes  and  imaginings, 


A DAY  IN  DDE  HAT. 


187 

which  at  last  ended  in  a sound  and  refreshing  sleep,  from  which 
I only  awoke  as  we  drew  up  at  the  door  of  the  Hibernian,  in 
Dawson  Street. 

Even  at  that  early  hour  there  was  considerable  bustle  and 
activity  of  preparation,  which  I was  at  some  loss  to  account 
for,  till  informed  by  the  waiter  that  there  were  upwards  of  three 
hundred  strangers  in  the  house,  it  being  the  day  of  His  Maj- 
esty’s expected  arrival  on  his  visit  to  Ireland,  and  a very  con- 
siderable section  of  the  county  of  Galway  being  at  that  moment, 
with  their  wives  and  families,  installed,  for  the  occasion,  in  this, 
their  favorite  hotel. 

Although  I had  been  reading  of  this  approaching  event  every 
day  for  the  last  three  months,  I could  not  help  feeling  surprised 
at  the  intense  appearance  of  excitement  it  occasioned,  and  in 
the  few  minutes’  conversation  I held  with  the  waiter,  learned 
the  total  impossibility  of  procuring  a lodging  anywhere,  and 
that  I could  not  have  a bed,  even  were  I to  offer  five  guineas 
for  it.  Having,  therefore,  no  inclination  for  sleep,  even  upon 
easier  terms,  I ordered  my  breakfast  to  be  ready  at  ten,  and  set 
out  upon  a stroll  through  the  town.  I could  not  help,  in  my 
short  ramble  through  the  streets,  perceiving  how  admirably 
adapted  were  the  worthy  Dublinites  for  all  the  honors  that 
awaited  them ; garlands  of  flowers,  transparencies,  flags,  and 
the  other  insignia  of  rejoicing,  were  everywhere  in  preparation, 
and,  at  the  end  of  Sackville  Street,  a considerable  erection,  very 
much  resembling  an  impromptu  gallows,  was  being  built,  for 
the  purpose,  as  I afterwards  learnt,  of  giving  the  worshipful  the 
lord  mayor  the  opportunity  of  opening  the  city  gates  to  royalty ; 
creating  the  obstacle  where  none  existed  being  a very  ingenious 
conceit,  and  considerably  Irish  into  the  bargain.  I could  not 
help  feeling  some  desire  to  witness  how  all  should  go  off,  to 
use  the  theatrical  phrase ; but,  in  my  anxiety  to  get  on  to  the 
Continent,  I at  once  abandoned  every  thought  of  delay.  When 
I returned  to  the  coffee-room  of  my  hotel,  I found  it  crowded 
to  excess ; every  little  table,  originally  destined  for  the  accom- 
modation of  one,  having  at  least  two,  and  sometimes  three  oc- 
cupants. In  my  hurried  glance  round  the  room,  to  decide 
where  I should  place  myself,  I was  considerably  struck  with  the 
appearance  of  a stout  elderly  gentleman  with  red  whiskers,  and 
a high,  bald  forehead ; he  had,  although  the  day  was  an  op- 
pressively hot  one,  three  waistcoats  on,  and  by  the  brown  York 
tan  of  his  long-topped  boots,  evinced  a very  considerable  con- 
tempt either  for  weather  or  fashion  ; in  the  quick  glance  of  his 
sharp  gray  eye  I read  that  he  listened  half  doubtingly  to  the 
narrative  of  his  companion  whose  back  was  turned  towards  me, 


i88 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


but  who  appeared,  from  the  occasional  words  which  reached 
me,  to  be  giving  a rather  marvellous  and  melodramatic  version 
of  the  expected  pleasures  of  the  capital.  There  was  something 
in  the  tone  of  the  speaker’s  voice  that  I thought  I recognized ; 
I accordingly  drew  near,  and  what  was  my  surprise  to  discover 
my  friend  Tom  O’Flaherty.  After  our  first  salutation  was  over, 
Tom  presented  me  to  his  friend,  Mr.  Burke,  of  somewhere,  who, 
he  continued  to  inform  me,  in  a stage  whisper,  was  a “ regular 
quiz,”  and  never  in  Dublin  in  his  life  before. 

“ And  so,  you  say,  sir,  that  His  Majesty  cannot  enter  with- 
out the  permission  of  the  lord  mayor  ? ” 

“ And  the  aldermen,  too,”  replied  Tom.  “ It  is  an  old  feudal 
ceremony ; when  His  Majesty  comes  up  to  the  gate,  he  demands 
admission,  and  the  lord  mayor  refuses,  because  he  would  be 
thus  surrendering  his  great  prerogative  of  head  of  the  city  ; then 
the  aldermen  get  about  him,  and  cajole  him,  and  by  degrees 
he’s  won  over  by  the  promise  of  being  knighted,  and  the  king 
gains  the  day,  and  enters.” 

“ Upon  my  conscience,  a mighty  ridiculous  ceremony  it  is, 
after  all,”  said  Mr.  Burke,  “ and  very  like  a bargain  for  sheep 
in  Ballinasloe  fair,  when  the  buyer  and  seller  appear  to  be  going 
to  fight,  till  a mutual  friend  settles  the  bargain  between  them.” 

At  this  moment,  Mr.  Burke  suddenly  sprang  from  his  chair, 
which  was  nearest  the  window,  to  look  out ; I accordingly  fol- 
lowed his  example,  and  beheld  a rather  ludicrous  procession,  if 
such  it  could  be  called,  consisting  of  so  few  persons.  The  prin- 
cipal individual  in  the  group  was  a florid,  fat,  happy-looking 
gentleman  of  about  fifty,  with  a profusion  of  nearly  white  whiskers, 
which  met  at  his  chin,  mounted  upon  a sleek  charger,  whose 
half-ambling,  half-prancing  pace,  had  evidently  been  acquired 
by  long  habit  of  going  in  procession  ; this  august  figure  was  hab- 
ited in  a scarlet  coat  and  cocked-hat,  having  “ tags,”  and  all 
the  other  appanage  of  a general  officer  ; he  also  wore  tight  buck- 
skin breeches,  and  high  jack-boots,  like  those  of  the  Horse 
Guards ; as  he  looked  from  side  to  side,  with  a self-satisfied, 
contented  air,  he  appeared  quite  insensible  of  the  cortege  which 
followed  and  preceded  him  ; the  latter  consisting  of  some  score 
of  half-ragged  boys,  yelling  and  shouting  with  all  their  might, 
and  the  former  being  a kind  of  instalment  in  hand  of  the  Dublin 
Militia  Band,  and  who,  in  numbers  and  equipment,  closely  re- 
sembled the  “ army”  which  accompanies  the  first  appearance  of 
Bombastes,  the  only  difference,  that  these  I speak  of  did  not 
play  the  “ Rogue’s  March,”  which  might  have  perhaps. appeared 
personal. 

As  this  goodly  procession  advanced,  Mr.  Burke’s  eyes  became 


A DAY  IN’  DUBLIN.  189 

riveted  upon  it ; it  was  the  first  wonder  he  had  yet  beheld,  and 
he  devoured  it. 

“ May  I ask,  sir,”  said  he,  at  length,  “who  that  is  ? ” 

“ Who  that  is  ! ” said  Tom,  surveying  him  leisurely  as  he 
spoke ; “ why  surely,  sir,  you  must  be  jesting,  or  you  would  not 
ask  such  a question  ; I trust,  indeed,  every  one  knows  who  he 
is.  Eh,  Harry?”  said  he,  looking  at  me  for  a confirmation  of 
what  he  said,  and  to  which,  of  course,  I assented  by  a look. 

Well,  but,  my  dear  Mr.  O’Flaherty,  you  forget  how  ignorant 
I am  of  everything  here ” 

“ Ah,  true,”  said  Tom,  interrupting  ; “ I forget  you  never  saw 
him  before.” 

“ And  who  is  he,  sir  ? ” 

“ Why  that’s  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  sir  ! ” 

“ Lord  have  mercy  upon  me,  is  it  ? ” said  Mr.  Burke,  as  he 
upset  the  table,  and  all  its  breakfast  equipage,  and  rushed  through 
the  cofiee-room  like  one  possessed.  Before  I could  half  recover 
from  the  fit  of  laughing  this  event  threw  me  into,  I heard  him 
as  he  ran  full  speed  down  Dawson  Street,  waving  his  hat,  and 
shouting  at  the  top  of  his  lungs,  “ God  bless  your  Grace  ! — Long 
life  to  your  Grace  ! — Hurra  for  the  hero  of  Waterloo  ! — the 
great  captain  of  the  age  ! ” etc.,  etc.,  which  I grieve  to  say,  for 
the  ingratitude  of  the  individual  lauded,  seemed  not  to  afford 
him  half  the  pleasure,  and  none  of  the  amusement,  it  did  the 
mob,  who  re-echoed  the  shouts  and  cheering  till  he  was  hid 
within  the  precincts  of  the  Mansion  House. 

“And  now,”  said  Tom,  to  me,  “ finish  your  breakfast  as  fast 
as  possible  ; for,  when  Burke  comes  back,  he  will  be  boring  me 
to  dine  with  him,  or  some  such  thing,  as  a kind  of  acknowledg- 
ment of  his  gratitude  for  showing  him  the  Duke.  Do  you  know, 
he  has  seen  more  wonders  through  my  poor  instrumentality 
within  the  last  three  days  in  Dublin,  than  a six  months’  trip  to 
the  Continent  would  show  most  men.  I have  made  him  believe 
that  Burke  Bethel  is  Lord  Brougham,  and  I am  about  to  bring 
him  to  a soiree  at  Miladi’s,  whom  he  supposes  to  be  the  Marchion- 
ess of  Conyngham.  A propos  to  the  dear  ‘ Blew,’  let  me  tell 
you  of  a ‘good  hit  ’ I was  witness  to  a few  nights  since.  You 
know,  perhaps,  old  Sir  Charles  Giesecke,  eh  ? ” 

“ I have  seen  him  once,  I think, — the  professor  of  miner- 
alogy.” 

“ Well,  poor  old  Sir  Charles,  one  of  the  most  modest  and  re- 
tiring men  in  existence,  was  standing  the  other  night  among  the 
mob,  in  one  of  the  drawing-rooms,  while  a waltzing-party  were 
figuring  away,  at  which,  with  that  fondness  for  la  danse  that 
characterizes  every  German  of  any  age,  he  was  looking  with 


HARkY  LORREQUER. 


190 

much  interest,  when  my  lady  came  tripping  up,  and  the  follow- 
ing short  dialogue  ensued  within  my  ear-shot : — 

“ 4 Ah,  mon  cher  Sir  Charles,  ravi  de  vous  voir.  But  why 
are  you  not  dancing  ? ’ 

44  4 Ah,  miladi,  je  ne  puis  pas,  c’est-a-dire,  ich  kann  es  nicht ; 
I am  too  old ; ich  bin ’ 

44  4 Oh,  you  horrid  man  ! I understand  you  perfectly.  You. 
hate  ladies,  that  is  the  real  reason.  You  do — you  know  you 
do.’ 

4 4 4 Ah,  miladi,  gnadige  Frau;  glauben  sie  mich  ; I do  loave 
de  ladies  ; I do  adore  de  sex.  Do  you  know,  miladi,  when  I 
was  in  Greenland  I did  keep  four  womans.’ 

44  4 Oh,  shocking,  horrid,  vile  Sir  Charles ! how  could  you 
tell  me  such  a story  ? I shall  die  of  it ! ’ 

4 4 4 Ah,  mine  Gott,  miladi,  sie  irren  sich  ; vous  vous  trompez. 
You  are  quite  in  mistake  ; it  was  only  to  row  my  boat /’ 

44  I leave  you  to  guess  how  my  lady’s  taste  for  the  broadside 
of  the  story,  and  poor  Sir  Charles’s  vindication  of  himself,  in 
regard  to  his  estimation  of  le  bean  sexe,  amused  all  who  heard 
it : as  for  me,  I had  to  leave  the  room,  half-choked  with  sup- 
pressed laughter.  And  now,  let  us  bolt,  for  I see  Burke  com- 
ing, and,  upon  my  soul,  I am  tired  of  telling  him  lies,  and  must 
rest  on  my  oars  for  a few  hours  at  least.” 

44  But  where  is  the  necessity  for  so  doing  ? ” said  I ; “ surely, 
where  there  is  so  much  of  novelty  as  a large  city  presents  to  a 
visitor  for  the  first  time  there  is  little  occasion  to  draw  upon 
imagination  for  your  facts.” 

44  Ah,  my  dear  Harry,  how  little  do  you  know  of  life  ? There 
is  a kind  of  man  whose  appetite  for  the  marvellous  is  such,  that 
he  must  be  crammed  with  miracles  or  he  dies  of  inanition,  and 
you  might  as  well  attempt  to  feed  a tiger  upon  pate  de  foie  gras 
as  satisfy  him  by  mere  naked  unvarnished  truth.  I’ll  just  give 
you  an  easy  illustration  ; you  saw  his  delight  this  morning  when 
the  ‘Duke’  rode  past;  well,  I’ll  tell  you  the  converse  of  that 
proposition  now.  The  night  before  last,  having  nothing  better 
to  do,  we  went  to  the  theatre  ; the  piece  was  La  Perouse , which 
they  have  been  playing  here  for  the  last  two  months  to  crowded 
houses,  to  exhibit  some  North  American  Indians  whom  some 
theatrical  speculator  brought  over  4 special,’  in  all  the  horrors 
of  fur,  wampum,  and  yellow  ochre.  Finding  the  4 spectacle  * 
rather  uninteresting,  I leaned  back  in  my  box  and  fell  into  a 
doze.  Meanwhile,  my  inquiring  friend,  Mr.  Burke,  who  felt 
naturally  anxious,  as  he  always  does,  to  get  au  fond  of  matters, 
left  his  place  to  obtain  information  about  the  piece,  the  audience, 


A DA  V IN  DUBLIN. 


191 


and,  above  all,  the  authenticity  of  the  Indians,  who  certainly 
astonished  him  considerably. 

“ Now  it  so  happened  that  about  a fortnight  previously  some 
violent  passion  to  return  home  to  their  own  country  had  seized 
these  interesting  individuals,  and  they  felt  the  most  irresistible 
longing  to  abandon  the  savage  and  unnatural  condiments  of 
roast  beef  and  Guinness’s  porter,  and  resume  their  ancient  and 
more  civilized  habits  of  life.  In  fact,  like  the  old  African  lady 
mentioned  by  the  missionary  at  the  Cape,  they  felt  they  could 
die  happy  if  they  6 could  only  once  more  have  a roast  chUd  for 
supper,’  and,  as  such  luxuries  aie  dear  in  this  country,  stay 
another  week  they  would  not,  whatever  the  consequences  might 
be ; the  manager  reasoned,  begged,  implored,  and  threatened, 
by  turns  ; all  would  not  do,  go  they  were  determined,  and  all 
that  the  unfortunate  proprietor  could  accomplish  was  to  make 
a purchase  of  their  properties  in  fur,  belts,  bows,  arrows,  and 
feathers,  and  get  them  away  quietly,  without  the  public  being 
the  wiser.  The  piece  was  too  profitable  a one  to  abandon,  so 
he  looked  about  anxiously,  to  supply  the  deficiency  in  his  corps 
dramatique.  For  several  days  nothing  presented  itself  to  his 
thoughts,  and  the  public  were  becoming  more  clamorous  for  the 
repetition  of  a drama  which  had  greatly  delighted  them.  What 
was  to  be  done  ? In  a mood  of  doubt  and  uncertainty,  the 
wretched  manager  was  taking  his  accustomed  walk  upon  the 
lighthouse  pier,  while  a number  of  unfortunate  country  fellows, 
bare-legged  and  lanky,  with  hay  ropes  fastening  their  old  gray 
coats  around  them,  were  standing  beside  a packet,  about  to 
take  their  departure  for  England  for  the  harvest.  Their  uncouth 
appearance,  their  wild  looks,  their  violent  gestures,  and,  above 
all,  their  strange  and  guttural  language — for  they  were  all 
speaking  Irish — attracted  the  attention  of  the  manager  ; the 
effect,  to  his  professional  eye,  was  good ; the  thought  struck 
him  at  once.  Here  were  the  very  fellows  he  wanted.  It  was 
scarcely  necessary  to  alter  anything  about  them,  they  were  ready 
made  to  his  hand,  and  in  many  respects  better  savages  than 
their  prototypes.  Through  the  mediation  of  some  whiskey,  the 
appropriate  liquor  in  all  treaties  of  this  nature,  a bargain  was 
readily  struck,  and  in  two  hours  more  these  4 forty  thieves  ’ were 
rehearsing  upon  the  classic  boards  of  our  theatre,  and  once 
more  La  Perouse , in  all  the  glory  of  red  capital  letters,  shone 
forth  in  the  morning  advertisements.  The  run  of  the  piece 
continued  unabated ; the  Indians  were  the  rage ; nothing  else 
was  thought  or  spoken  of  in  Dublin,  and  already  the  benefit  of 
Ashewaballagh  Ho  was  announced,  who,  by  the  bye,  was  a 
little  fellow  from  Martin’s  estate  in  Connemara,  and  one  of  the 


192 


HARRY  L ORREQ UER. 


drollest  dogs  I ever  heard  of.  Well,  it  so  happened  that  it  was 
upon  one  of  their  nights  of  performing  that  I found  myself,  with 
Mr.  Burke,  a spectator  of  their  proceedings  ; I had  fallen  into 
an  easy  slumber,  when  a dreadful  row  in  the  box  lobby  roused 
me  from  my  dream,  and  the  loud  cry  of  4 Turn  him  out ! ’ 4 Pitch 
him  over ! 9 4 Beat  his  brains  out ! ’ and  other  humane  proposals 
of  the  like  nature,  effectually  restored  me  to  consciousness.  I 
rushed  out  of  the  box  into  the  lobby,  and  there,  to  my  astonish- 
ment, in  the  midst  of  a considerable  crowd,  behind  my  friend, 
Mr.  Burke,  belaboring  the  box-keeper  with  all  his  might  with 
a cotton  umbrella  of  rather  unpleasant  proportions,  accompany- 
ing each  blow  with  an  exclamation  of  4 Well,  are  they  Connaught- 
men,  now,  you  rascal — eh  ?— -are  they  all  west  of  Athlone,  tell 
me  that,  now  ? I wonder  what's  preventing  me  beating  the  soul 
out  of  ye.’  After  obtaining  a short  cessation  of  hostilities,  and 
restoring  poor  Sharkey  to  his  legs,  much  more  dead  than  alive 
from  pure  fright,  I learned,  at  last,  the  teterrima  causa  belli . Mr. 
Burke,  it  seems,  had  entered  into  conversation  with  Sharkey, 
the  box-keeper,  as  to  all  the  particulars  of  the  theatre,  and  the 
present  piece,  but  especially  as  to  the  real  and  authentic  history 
of  the  Indians,  whose  language  her  emarked,  in  many  respects, 
to  resemble  Irish.  Poor  Sharkey,  whose  benefit  night  was  ap- 
proaching, thought  he  might  secure  a friend  for  life  by  impart- 
ing to  him  an  important  state  secret ; and  when  therefore, 
pressed  rather  closely  as  to  the  4 savages’  whereabout,’  resolved 
to  try  a bold  stroke,  and  trust  his  unknown  interrogator.  4 And 
so  you  don’t  really  know  where  they  come  from,  nor  can’t 
guess?’  ‘Maybe,  Peru,’  said  Mr.  Burke,  innocently.  4 Try 
again,  sir,’  said  Sharkey,  with  a knowing  grin.  4 Is  it  Behring’s, 
Straits  ? ’ said  Mr.  Burke.  4 What  do  you  think  of  Galway, 
sir  ? 9 said  Sharkey,  with  a leer  intended  to  cement  a friendship 
for  life.  The  words  were  no  sooner  out  of  his  lips,  than  Burke, 
who  immediately  took  them  as  a piece  of  direct  insolence  to 
himself  and  his  country,  felled  him  to  the  earth,  and  was  in  the 
act  of  continuing  the  discipline  when  I arrived  on  the  field  of 
battle.” 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

A NIGHT  AT  HOWTH. 

44  And  you  must  really  leave  us  so  soon,”  said  Tom,  as  we 
issued  forth  into  the  street ; 44  why,  I was  just  planning  a whole 
week’s  adventure  for  you.  Town  is  so  full  of  all  kinds  of  idle 


A NIGHT  AT  IIOWTH. 


l93 


people,  I think  I could  manage  to  make  your  time  pass  pleas- 
antly enough.” 

“ Of  that,”  I replied,  “ I have  little  doubt,  but,  for  the  reasons 
I have  just  mentioned,  it  is  absolutely  necessary  that  I should 
not  lose  a moment ; and  after  arranging  a few  things  here,  I 
shall  start  to-morrow  by  the  earliest  packet,  and  hasten  up  to 
London  at  once.” 

“By  Jupiter,”  said  Tom,  “how  lucky.  I just  remember 
something  which  comes  admirably  a propos . You  are  going  to 
Paris — is  it  not  so  ? ” 

“ Yes,  direct  to  Paris.” 

“ Nothing  could  be  better.  There  is  a particularly  nice 
person,  a great  friend  of  mine — Mrs.  Bingham — waiting  for 
several  days  in  hopes  of  a chaperon  to  take  care  of  herself  and 
daughter — a lovely  girl,  only  nineteen,  you  wretch — to  London, 
en  route  to  the  Continent ; the  mamma  a delightful  woman,  and 
a widow,  with  a very  satisfactory  jointure — you  understand  ; but 
the  daughter,  a regular,  downright  beauty,  and  a ward  in  Chan 
eery,  with  how  many  thousand  pounds  I am  afraid  to  trust 
myself  to  say.  You  must  know,  then,  they  are  the  Binghams 
of , upon  my  soul,  I forget  where,  but  highly  respectable.” 

“ I regret  I have  not  the  pleasure  of  their  acquaintance,  and 
the  more  because  I shall  not  be  able  to  make  it  now.” 

“ As  why  ? ” said  Tom,  gravely. 

“ Because,  in  the  first  place,  I am  so  confoundedly  pressed 
for  time,  that  I could  not  possibly  delay  under  any  contingency 
that  might  arise  ; and  your  fair  friends  are,  doubtless,  not  too 
eagerly  determined  upon  travelling  night  and  day  till  they  reach 
Paris.  Secondly,  to  speak  candidly,  with  my  present  hopes  and 
fears  weighing  upon  my  mind,  I shall  not  be  the  most  agreeable 
travelling  companion  to  two  ladies  with  such  pretensions  as  you 
speak  of  ; and,  thirdly ” 

“ Confound  your  thirdly.  I suppose  we  shall  havesixteenthly, 
like  a Presbyterian  minister’s  sermon,  if  I let  you  go  on.  Why, 
they’ll  not  delay  you  one  hour.  Mrs.  Bingham,  man,  cares  as 
little  for  the  road  as  yourself  ; and  as  for  your  petits  soins,  I 
suppose  if  you  get  the  fair  ladies  through  the  Custom  House, 
and  see  them  safe  in  a London  hotel,  it  is  all  that  will  be  re- 
quired at  your  hands.” 

“ Notwithstanding  all  you  say,  I see  the  downright  impossi- 
bility of  my  taking  such  a charge  at  this  moment,  when  my  own 
affairs  require  all  the  little  attention  I can  bestow ; and  when, 
were  I once  involved  with  your  fair  friends,  it  might  be  com- 
pletely out  of  my  power  to  prosecute  my  own  plans.” 

As  I said  this,  we  reached  the  door  of  a handsome-looking 
*3  ' 


194 


BARRY  LORREQUER. 


house  in  Kildare  Street,  upon  which  Tom  left  my  arm,  and,  in 
forming  me  that  he  desired  to  drop  a card,  knocked  loudly. 

“ Is  Mrs.  Bingham  at  home  ? ” said  he,  as  the  servant  opened 
the  door. 

“ No,  sir,  she’s  out  in  the  carriage.” 

“ Well,  you  see,  Harry,  your  ill-luck  befriends  you  ; for  I was 
resolved  on  presenting  you  to  my  friends,  and  leaving  the  rest 
to  its  merits.” 

“ I can  safely  assure  you  that  I should  not  have  gone  up 
stairs,”  said  I.  “Little  as  I know  of  myself,  there  is  one  point 
of  my  character  I have  never  been  deceived  in,  the  fatal  facility 
by  which  every  new  incident  or  adventure  can  turn  me  from 
following  up  my  best  matured  and  longest  digested  plans  ; and 
as  I feel  this  weakness  and  cannot  correct  it,  the  next  best  thing 
I can  do  is  to  fly  the  causes.” 

“Upon  my  soul,”  said  Tom,  “you  have  become  quite  a phi- 
losopher since  we  met.  There  is  an  old  adage  which  says,  ‘ No 
king  is  ever  thoroughly  gracious  if  he  has  not  passed  a year  or 
two  in  dethronement  : ’ so  I believe  your  regular  lady-killer — 
yourself,  for  instance — becomes  a very  quiet  animal  for  being 
occasionally  jilted.  But  now,  as  you  have  some  commissions 
to  do,  pray  get  done  with  them  as  fast  as  possible,  and  let  us 
meet  at  dinner.  Where  do  you  dine  to-day  ? ” 

“ Why,  upon  that  point,  I am  at  your  service  completely.” 

“ Well,  then,  I have  got  a plan  which  I think  will  suit  you. 
You  said  you  wished  to  go  by  Holyhead,  for  fear  of  delay ; so 
we’ll  drive  down  at  six  o’clock  to  Skinner’s,  and  dine  with  him 
on  board  the  packet  at  Howth.  Bring  your  luggage  with  you, 
and  it  will  save  you  a vast  deal  of  fuss  and  trouble  in  the  morn- 
ing.” 

Nothing  could  be  better  management  for  me  than  this,  so  I 
accordingly  promised  acquiescence  ; and  having  appointed  a 
rendezvous  for  six  o’clock,  bade  O’Flaherty  good-by,  inwardly 
rejoicing  that  my  plans  were  so  far  forwarded,  and  that  I was 
not  to  be  embarrassed  with  either  Mrs.  Bingham  or  her  daugh- 
ter, for  whose  acquaintance  or  society  I had  no  peculiar  ambition. 

My  commissions,  though  not  very  numerous,  occupied  the 
few  hours  which  remained,  and  it  was  already  a few  minutes 
past  six  o’clock  when  I took  my  stand  under  the  piazza  of  the 
Post-office  to  wait  for  O’Flaherty.  I had  not  long  to  do  so,  for 
immediately  after  I had  reached  the  spot,  he  arrived  in  an  open 
barouche  and  four  posters,  with  three  other  young  men,  to  whom 
he  severally  introduced  me,  but  whose  names  I have  totally  for- 
gotten ; I only  remember  that  two  of  the  party  were  military  men, 
then  quartered  in  town. 


A NIGHT  A T IIO  WTH 


195 


When  I had  taken  my  seat,  I could  not  help  whispering  to 
Tom,  that  although  his  friend  Skinner  might  be  “ bon  ” for  a 
visitation  for  two  at  his  dinner,  yet,  as  we  were  now  so  strong  a 
party,  it  might  be  as  well  to  dine  at  the  hotel. 

“ Oh,”~said  he,  “ I have  arranged  all  that ; I have  sent  him  a 
special  messenger  two  hours  since,  and  so  make  your  mind  easy 
— we  shall  not  be  disappointed,  nor  he  short-taken.” 

Our  drive,  although  a long  one,  passed  quickly  over,  and  be- 
fore we  had  reached  our  destination,  I had  become  tolerably 
intimate  with  all  the  party,  who  were  evidently  picked  men, 
selected  by  O’Flaherty  for  a pleasant  evening. 

We  drove  along  the  pier  to  the  wharf,  where  the  steamer  lay, 
and  were  received  at  once  by  Tom’s  friend  with  all  the  warm 
welcome  and  hospitality  of  a sailor,  united  with  the  address  and 
polish  of  a very  finished  gentleman.  As  we  descended  the  com- 
panion-ladder to  the  cabin,  my  mind  became  speedily  divested 
of  any  fears  I might  have  indulged  in  as  to  the  want  of  prepara- 
tion of  our  entertainer.  The  table  was  covered  with  handsome 
plate  and  cut  glass,  while  the  side-tables  glittered  with  a mag- 
nificent dessert,  and  two  large  wine-coolers  presented  an  array 
of  champagne  necks  shining  with  their  leaden  cravats  that  would 
have  tempted  an  anchorite. 

I remember  very  little  else  of  that  evening  than  the  coup  d' ceil 
I have  mentioned ; besides,  were  my  memory  more  retentive,  I 
might  scruple  to  trespass  farther  on  my  reader’s  patience,  by 
the  detail  of  those  pleasures  which,  like  love-letters,  however 
agreeable  to  the  parties  immediately  concerned,  are  very  uned- 
ifying to  all  others.  I do  remember,  certainly,  that  good  stories 
and  capital  songs  succeeded  each  other  with  a rapidity  only  to 
be  equalled  by  the  popping  of  corks  ; and  have  also  a very  vague 
and  indistinct  recollection  of  a dance  round  the  table,  evidently 
to  finish  a chorus,  but  which,  it  appears,  finished  me  too,  for  I 
saw  no  more  that  night. 

How  many  have  commemorated  the  waking  sensations  of  their 
fellow-men,  after  a night’s  debauch  ! yet,  at  the  same  time,  I am 
not  aware  of  any  one  having  perfectly  conveyed  even  a passing 
likeness  to  the  mingled  throng  of  sensations  which  crowd  one’s 
brain  on  such  an  occasion.  The  doubt  of  what  has  passed,  by 
degrees  yielding  to  the  half  consciousness  of  the  truth,  the  feel- 
ing of  shame,  inseparable,  except  to  the  habitually  hard-goer, 
from  the  events  thus  dimly  pictured,  the  racking  headache  and 
intense  thirst,  with  the  horror  of  the  potation  recently  indulged 
in  ; the  recurring  sense  of  the  fun  or  drollery  of  a story  or  an 
incident  which  provokes  us  again  to  laugh  despite  the  jarring  of 
@ur  brain  from  the  shaking, — all  this,  and  more,  most  men  have 


196 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


felt,  and  happy  are  they  when  their  waking  thoughts  are  limited 
to  such,  at  times  like  these.  The  matter  becomes  considerably 
worse,  when  the  following  morning  calls  for  some  considerable 
exertion,  for  which,  even  in  your  best  and  calmest  moments,  you 
barely  find  yourself  equal. 

It  is  truly  unpleasant,  on  rubbing  your  eyes  and  opening  your 
ears,  to  discover  that  the  great  bell  is  ringing  the  half-hour  be- 
fore your  quarterly  examination  at  college,  while  Locke,  Lloyd, 
and  Lucian  are  dancing  a reel  through  your  brain,  little  short  of 
madness ; scarcely  less  agreeable  is  it  to  learn  that  your  friend 
Captain  Wildfire  is  at  the  door  in  his  cab,  to  accompany  you  to 
the  Phoenix,  to  stand  within  twelve  paces  of  a cool  gentleman 
who  has  been  sitting  with  his  arm  in  cold  water  for  the  last  half- 
hour,  that  he  may  pick  you  out  “ artist-like.”  There  are,  besides 
these,  innumerable  situations  in  which  our  preparations  of  the 
night  would  appear  as  none  of  the  wisest ; but  I prefer  going  at 
once  to  my  own,  which,  although  considerably  inferior  in  diffi- 
culty, was  not  without  its  own  desagremens . 

When  I awoke,  therefore,  on  board  the  Firefly , the  morning 
after  our  dinner-party,  I was  perfectly  unable,  by  any  mental 
process  within  my  reach,  to  discover  where  I was.  On  shipboard 
I felt  I must  be — the  narrow  berth,  the  gilded  and  panelled  cabin 
which  met  my  eye  through  my  half-open  curtains,  and  that  pecul- 
iar swelling  motion  inseparable  from  a vessel  in  the  water,  all 
satisfied  me  of  this  fact.  I looked  about  me,  but  could  see  no 
one  to  give  me  the  least  idea  of  my  position.  Could  it  be  that 
we  were  on  our  way  out  to  Corfu,  and  that  I had  been  ill  for 
some  time  past  ? 

But  this  cabin  had  little  resemblance  to  a transport ; perhaps 
it  might  be  a frigate,  I knew  not.  Then  again,  were  we  sailing, 
or  at  anchor  ? for  the  ship  was  nearly  motionless  ; at  this  instant 
a tremendous  noise  like  thunder  crashed  through  my  head,  and 
for  a moment  I expected  we  had  exploded,  and  would  be  all 
blown  up  ; but  an  instant  after  I discovered  it  must  be  the  escape 
of  the  steam,  and  that  I was  on  board  a packet-ship.  Here, 
then,  was  some  clue  to  my  situation,  and  one  which  would  prob- 
ably have  elicited  all  in  due  season  ; but  just  at  this  moment  a 
voice  on  deck  saved  me  from  any  further  calculations.  Two 
persons  were  conversing  whose  voices  were  not  altogether  un- 
known to  me,  but  why  I knew  not. 

“ Then,  captain,  I suppose  you  consider  this  as  an  excellent 
passage  ? ” 

“Yes,  of  course  I do,”  replied  the  captain,  “it’s  only  five 
hours  since  we  left  Howth,  and  now?  you  see,  we  are  nearly  in ; 


A NIGHT  AT  HO WTH. 


197 


if  we  have  this  run  of  the  tide  we  shall  reach  the  Head  before 
twelve  o’clock.” 

“ Ha,  ha  ! ” said  I to  myself,  “ now  I begin  to  learn  something. 
So  we  have  crossed  the  channel  while  I was  sleeping,  not  the 
ieast  agreeable  thing  for  a man  to  hear  who  suffers  martyrdom 
from  sea-sickness.  But  let  me  listen  again.” 

“ And  that  large  mountain  there,  is  that  Snowdon  ? ” 

“ No  ; you  cannot  see  Snowdon  ; there  is  too  much  mist  about 
it;  that  mountain  is  Capel  Carrig ! and  there  that  bold  bluff  to 
the  eastward,  that  is  Penmen  Mawr.” 

“ Come,  there  is  no  time  to  be  lost,”  thought  I ; so  springing 
out  of  my  berth,  accoutred  as  I was,  in  merely  trousers  and  slip- 
pers, with  a red  handkerchief,  fastened  nightcap  fashion  round 
my  head,  I took  my  way  through  the  cabin. 

My  first  thought  on  getting  upon  my  legs  was,  how  tremen- 
dously the  vessel  pitched,  which  I had  not  remarked  while  in  my 
berth,  but  now  I could  scarce  keep  myself  from  falling  at  every 
step.  I was  just  about  to  call  the  steward,  when  I again  heard 
the  voices  on  deck. 

“ You  have  but  few  passengers  this  trip.” 

“ I think  only  yourself  and  a Captain  Lorrequer,”  replied  the 
captain,  “ who,  by  the  bye,  is  losing  all  this  fine  coast,  which  is 
certainly  a great  pity.” 

“ He  shall  not  do  so  much  longer,”  thought  I ; “for  as  I find 
that  there  are  no  other  passengers,  I’ll  make  my  toilet  on  deck, 
and  enjoy  the  view  besides.”  With  this  determination  I as- 
cended slowly  and  cautiously  the  companion-ladder,  and  stepped 
out  upon  the  deck ; but  scarcely  had  I done  so,  when  a roar  of 
the  loudest  laughter  made  me  turn  my  head  towards  the  poop, 
and  there,  to  my  horror  of  horrors,  I beheld  Tom  O’Flaherty 
seated  between  two  ladies,  whose  most  vociferous  mirth  I soon 
perceived  was  elicited  at  my  expense. 

All  the  party  of  the  preceding  night  were  also  there,  and  as 
I turned  from  their  grinning  faces  to  the  land,  I saw,  to  my 
shame  and  confusion,  that  we  were  still  lying  beside  the  pier  at 
Howth  ; while  the  bandboxes,  trunks,  and  imperials  of  new  ar- 
rivals were  incessantly  pouring  in,  as  travelling  carriages  kept 
driving  up  to  the  place  of  embarkation.  I stood  perfectly  as- 
tounded and  bewildered — shame  for  my  ridiculous  costume 
would  have  made  me  fly  at  any  other  time — but  there  I remained 
to  be  laughed  at,  patiently,  while  that  villain  O’Flaherty,  leading 
me  passively  forward,  introduced  me  to  his  friends — “ Mrs. 
Bingham,  Mr.  Lorrequer;  Mr.  Lorrequer,  Miss  Bingham.  Don’t 
be  prepossessed  against  him,  ladies,  for  when  not  in  Jove?  and 


198  HARRY  LORREQUER. 

properly  dressed,  he  is  a marvellously  well-looking  young  gen- 
tleman ; and  as ” 

What  the  remainder  of  the  sentence  might  be,  I knew  not,  for 
I rushed  down  into  the  cabin,  and  locking  the  door,  never  opened 
it  till  I could  perceive  from  the  stern  windows  that  we  were 
really  off  on  our  way  to  England,  and  recognized  once  more  the 
laughing  face  of  O’Flaherty,  who,  as  he  waved  his  hat  to  his 
friends  from  the  pier,  reminded  them  “ that  they  were  under  the 
care  and  protection  of  his  friend  Lorrequer,  who,  he  trusted, 
would  condescend  to  increase  his  wearing  apparel  under  the 
circumstances.” 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE  JOURNEY. 

When  I did  at  last  venture  upon  the  deck,  it  was  with  a cos- 
tume studiously  accurate,  and  as  much  of  manner  as  I could 
possibly  muster,  to  endeavor  at  once  to  erase  the  unfortunate 
impression  of  my  first  appearance ; this,  however,  was  not  destined 
to  be  a perfectly  successful  manoeuvre,  and  I was  obliged,  after 
a few  minutes,  to  join  the  laugh,  which  I found  could  not  be  re- 
pressed, at  my  expense.  One  good  result  certainly  followed 
from  all  this.  I became  almost  immediately  on  intimate  terms 
with  Mrs.  Bingham  and  her  daughter,  and  much  of  the  awk- 
wardness in  my  position  as  their  chaperon,  which,  bon  gre',  mal 
gre \ I was  destined  to  be,  was  at  once  got  over.  Mrs.  Bingham 
herself  was  of  that  style  of  widow  which  comes  under  the  “ fat, 
fair,  and  forty  ” category,  with  a never-ceasing  flow  of  high, 
almost  boisterous  spirits — an  excellent  temper,  good  health — 
and  a well-stocked  purse.  Life  to  her  was  like  a game  of  her 
favorite  “ speculation.”  When  she  believed  the  “ company  hon- 
est,” and  knew  her  cards  trumps,  she  was  tolerably  easy  for  the 
result.  She  liked  Kingstown — she  liked  whist — she  liked  the  mili- 
tary—she  liked  “ the  junior  bar,”  of  which  she  knew  a good  num- 
ber— she  had  a well-furnished  house  in  Kildare  Street — and  a 
well-cushioned  pew  in  St.  Anne’s — she  was  a favorite  at  the 
Castle — and  Dr.  Labatt  “ knew  her  constitution.”  Why,  with 
all  these  advantages,  she  should  ever  have  thought  of  leaving 
the  “ happy  valley  ” of  her  native  city,  it  was  somewhat  hard  to 
guess.  Was  it  that  thoughts  of  matrimony,  which  the  Conti- 
nent held  out  more  prospect  for,  had  invaded  the  fair  widow’s 
heart  ? was  it  that  the  altered  condition  to  which  politics  had 
greatly  reduced  Dublin  had  effected  this  change  of  opinion  ? or 


THE  JOURNEY. 


m 


was  it  like  that  indescribable  longing  for  the  unknown  something, 
which  we  read  of  in  the  pathetic  history  of  the  fair  lady  cele- 
brated, I believe,  by  Petrarch  ? But  I quote  from  memory  : — 

“ Mrs.  Gill  is  very  ill, 

Nothing  can  improve  her, 

But  to  see  the  Tuileries, 

And  waddle  through  the  Louvre.” 

None  of  these,  I believe,  however  gocd  and  valid  reasons  in 
themselves,  were  the  moving  powers  upon  the  present  occasion  ; 
the  all-sufficient  one  being  that  Mrs.  Bingham  had  a daugh- 
ter. Now  Miss  Bingham  was  Dublin  too — but  Dublin  of 
a later  edition — and  a finer,  more  hot-pressed  copy  than 
her  mamma.  She  had  been  educated  at  Mrs.  Somebody’s 
seminary  in  Mountjoy  Square — had  been  taught  to  dance  by 
Montague — and  had  learned  French  from  a Swiss  governess 
— with  a number  of  similar  advantages — a very  pretty  figure — 
dark  eyes — long  eyelashes  and  a dimple — and  last,  but  of  course 
least,  the  deserved  reputation  of  a large  fortune.  She  had  made 
a most  successful  debut  in  the  Dublin  world,  where  she  was  much 
admired  and  flattered,  and  which  soon  suggested  to  her  quick 
mind,  as  it  has  often  done  in  similar  cases  to  a young  provincial 
debutante , not  to  waste  her  attractions  upon  the  minor  thea- 
tres, but  at  once  to  appear  upon  the  “ great  boards  ; ” so  far 
evidencing  a higher  flight  of  imagination  and  enterprise  than  is 
usually  found  among  the  class  of  her  early  associates,  who  may 
be  characterized  as  that  school  of  young  ladies,  who  admire 
“ The  Corsair  ” and  Kingstown,  and  say  “ Ah,  don’t ! ” 

She  possessed  much  more  common  sense  than  her  mamma, 
and  promised,  under  proper  advantages,  to  become  speedily 
quite  sufficiently  acquainted  with  the  world  and  its  habitudes. 
In  the  mean  while,  I perceived  that  she  ran  a very  considerable 
risk  of  being  carried  off  by  some  mustachioed  Pole,  with  a name 
like  a sneeze,  who  might  pretend  to  enjoy  access  to  the  fashion* 
able  circles  of  the  Continent. 

Very  little  study  of  my  two  friends  enabled  me  to  see  thus 
much ; and  very  little  “ usage  ” sufficed  to  render  me  speedily 
intimate  with  both  ; the  easy  good-nature  of  the  mamma,  who 
had  a very  methodistical  appreciation  of  what  the  “ connection  ” 
call  “ creature  comforts,”  amused  me  much,  and  opened  one 
ready  path  to  her  good  graces  by  the  opportunity  afforded  of 
getting  up  a luncheon  of  veal  cutlets  and  London  porter,  of 
which  I partook,  not  a little  to  the  evident  loss  of  the  fair 
daughter’s  esteem. 

While,  therefore,  I made  the  tour  of  the  steward’s  cell  in  search 


•200 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


of  Harvey’s  sauce,  I brushed  up  my  memory  of  “ The  Corsair  ” 
and  “ Childe  Harold,”  and  alternately  discussed  Stilton  and 
Southey,  Shelley  and  lobsters,  Haynes  Bayley  and  ham. 

The  day  happened  to  be  particularly  calm  and  delightful,  so 
that  we  never  left  the  deck : and  the  six  hours  which  brought 
us  from  land  to  land  quickly  passed  over  in  this  manner ; and 
ere  we  reached  “ the  Head,”  I had  become  the  warm  friend  and 
legal  adviser  of  the  mother ; and  with  the  daughter  I was 
installed  as  chief  confidant  of  all  her  griefs  and  sorrows, 
both  of  which  appointments  cost  me  a solemn  promise  to 
take  care  of  them  till  their  arrival  in  Paris,  where  they  had 
many  friends  and  acquaintances  awaiting  them.  Here,  then,  as 
usual,  was  the  fatal  facility  with  which  I gave  myself  up  to  any 
one  who  took  the  trouble  to  influence  me  ! One  thing,  never- 
theless, I was  determined  on,  to  let  no  circumstances  defer  my 
arrival  at  Paris  a day  later  than  was  possible  : therefore,  though 
my  office  as  chaperon  might  engage  me  on  the  road,  it  should 
not  interfere  with  the  object  before  me.  Had  my  mind  not 
been  so  completely  engaged  with  my  own  immediate  prospects, 
when  hope,  suddenly  and  unexpectedly  revived,  had  become  so 
tinged  with  fears  and  doubts  as  to  be  almost  torture,  I must 
have  been  much  amused  with  my  present  position,  as  I found 
myself  seated  with  my  two  fair  friends,  rolling  along  through 
Wales  in  their  comfortable  travelling  carriage — giving  all  the 
orders  at  the  different  hotels — seeing  after  the  luggage — and 
acting  en  maitre  in  every  respect. 

The  good  widow  enjoyed  particularly  the  difficulty  which 
my  precise  position  with  regard  to  her  and  her  daughter  threw  the 
different  innkeepers  on  the  road  into,  sometimes  supposing  me 
to  be  her  husband,  sometimes  her  son,  and  once  her  son-in-law  , 
which  very  alarming  conjecture  brought  a crimson  tinge  to  the 
fair  daughter’s  cheek,  an  expression  which,  in  my  ignorance,  I 
thought  looked  very  like  an  inclination  to  faint  in  my  arms. 

At  length  we  reached  London,  and  having  been  there  safely 
installed  at  Mivart’s,  I sallied  forth  to  present  my  letter  to  the 
Horse  Guards,  and  obtain  our  passport  for  the  Continent. 

“ Number  nine,  Poland  Street,  sir,”  said  the  waiter,  as  I in- 
quired the  address  of  the  French  Consul.  Having  discovered 
that  my  interview  with  the  commander-in-chief  was  appointed 
for  four  o’clock,  I determined  to  lose  no  time,  but  make  every 
possible  arrangement  for  leaving  London  in  the  morning. 

A cab  quietly  conveyed  me  to  the  door  of  the  Consul,  around 
which  stood  several  other  vehicles  of  every  shape  and  fashion, 
while  in  the  doorway  were  to  be  seen  numbers  of  people,  throng- 
ing and  pressing,  like  the  Opera  pit  on  a full  night.  Into  the 


THE  JOURNEY. 


20 1 


midst  of  this  assemblage  I soon  thrust  myself,  and,  borne  upon 
the  current,  at  length  reached  a small  back  parlor,  filled  also 
with  people  ; a door  opening  into  another  small  room  in  the  front 
showed  a similar  mob  there,  with  the  addition  of  a small  elderly 
man,  in  a bag-wig  and  spectacles,  very  much  begrimed  with  snuff, 
and  speaking  in  a very  choleric  tone  to  the  various  applicants 
for  passports,  who,  totally  ignorant  of  French,  insisted  upon  in- 
terlarding their  demands  with  an  occasional  stray  phrase,  mak- 
ing a kind  of  tesselated  pavement  of  tongues,  which  would  have 
shamed  Babel.  Nearest  to  the  table  at  which  the  functionary 
sat  stood  a mustachioed  gentleman,  in  a blue  frock  and  white 
trousers,  a white  hat  jauntily  set  upon  one  side  of  his  head,  and 
primrose  gloves.  He  cast  a momentary  glance  of  a very  under- 
valuing import  upon  the  crowd  around  him,  and  then,  turning  to 
the  Consul,  said  in  a very  soprano  tone  : — 

“ Passport,  monsieur  ! ” 

“ Que  voulez-vous  que  je  fasse,”  replied  the  old  Frenchman, 
gruffly. 

“ Je  suis — j’ai — that  is,  donnez-moi  passport.” 

“ Where  do  you  go  ? ” replied  the  Consul. 

“ Calai.” 

“ Comment,  diable,  speak  Inglis,  an  I understan  you  as  bes- 
ser.  Your  name  ? ” 

“ Lorraine  Snaggs,  gentilhomme.” 

“ What  age  have  you  ? — how  old  ? ” 

“ Twenty-two.” 

“ C’est  ga,”  said  the  old  Consul,  flinging  the  passport  across 
the  table  with  the  air  of  a man  who  thoroughly  comprehended 
the  applicant’s  pretension  to  the  designation  of  gentilhomme 
Anglais. 

As  I followed  the  worthy  representative  of  Seven  Dials  with 
my  eye,  another  person  had  neared  the  table.  She  was  a rather 
pretty  young  woman,  with  blue  eyes,  and  brown  hair  braided 
quietly  on  her  forehead,  and  wearing  a plain  close  bonnet  of  a 
very  coquettish  appearance. 

“ Will  you  be  seated,  mam’selle  ? ” said  the  polite  old  French- 
man, who  had  hitherto  been  more  like  a bear  than  a human 
being.  “ Ou  allez-vous  done  ? where  to,  ma  ch&re  ? ” 

“ To  Paris,  sir.” 

“ By  Calais  ? ” 

“ No,  sir  ; by  Boulogne.” 

“C’est  bon  ; quel  age  avez-vous.  What  old,  ma  belle  ?H 
“ Nineteen,  sir,  in  June.” 

“ And  are  you  alone,  quite,  eh?r 
“ No,  sir,  my  little  girl.” 


2o 2 HARRY  LORREQUER. 

“ Ah ! your  leetel  girl — c’est  fort  bien — je  m’apergois ; and 
your  name  ? ” 

44  Fanny  Linwood,  sir.’’ 

44  C’est  fini,  ma  chere, — Mademoiselle  Fanny  Linwood,”  said 
the  old  man,  as  he  wrote  down  the  name. 

44  Oh,  sir,  I beg  your  pardon,  but  you  have  put  me  down  Mad- 
emoiselle, and — and — you  see,  sir,  I have  my  little  girl.” 

44 Ah!  c’est  e'gal,  mam’selle,  they  don’t  mind  these  things  in 
France.  Au  plaisir  de  vous  voir — adieu.” 

44  They  don’t  mind  these  things  in  France,”  said  I to  myself, 
repeating  the  old  Consul’s  phrase,  which  I could  not  help  feel- 
ing as  a whole  chapter  on  his  nation. 

My  business  was  soon  settled,  for  I spoke  nothing  but  English 
— very  little  knowledge  of  the  world  teaching  me  that  when  we 
have  any  favor,  however  slight,  to  ask,  it  is  always  good  policy  to 
make  the  demand  by  propitiating  the  self-esteem  of  the  granter 
— if,  happily,  there  be  an  opportunity  for  so  doing. 

When  I returned  to  Mivart’s,  I found  a written  answer  to  my 
letter  of  the  morning,  stating  that  his  lordship  of  the  Horse 
Guards  was  leaving  town  that  afternoon,  but  would  not  delay 
my  departure  for  the  Continent,  to  visit  which  a four  months’ 
leave  was  granted  me,  with  a recommendation  to  study  at  Wei- 
mar. 

The  next  day  brought  us  to  Dover,  in  time  to  stroll  about  the 
cliffs  during  the  evening,  when  I again  talked  sentiment  with  the 
daughter  till  very  late.  The  mamma  herself  was  too  tired  to  come 
out,  so  that  we  had  our  walk  quite  alone.  It  is  strange  enough  how 
quickly  this  travelling  together  has  shaken  us  into  intimacy.  Isa- 
bella says  she  feels  as  if  I were  her  brother ; and  I began  to  think 
myself  she  is  not  exactly  like  a sister.  She  has  a marvellously 
pretty  foot  and  ankle. 

The  climbing  of  cliffs  is  a very  dangerous  pastime.  How  true 
the  French  adage — 44  C’est  plus  facile  de  glisser  sur  le  gazon 
que  sur  la  glace.”  But  still  nothing  can  come  of  it ; for  if  Lady 
Jane  be  not  false,  I must  consider  myself  an  engaged 
man. 

44  Well,  but  I hope,”  said  I,  rousing  myself  from  a reverie  of 
some  minutes,  and  inadvertently  pressing  the  arm  which  leaned 
upon  me,  44  your  mamma  will  not  be  alarmed  at  our  long  ab- 
sence ? ” 

44  Oh  ! not  in  the  least ; for  she  knows  I’m  with  you.” 

And  here  I felt  a return  of  the  pressure — perhaps  also  inad- 
vertently given,  but  which,  whether  or  not,  effectually  set  all  my 
reasonings  and  calculations  astray ; and  we  returned  to  the  ho- 
tel silent  on  both  sides. 


CALAIS : 


203 


The  appearance  of  “ mamma  ” beside  the  hissing  tea-urn, 
brought  us  both  back  to  ourselves  ; and  after  an  hour’s  chatting 
we  said  “Good-night,”  to  start  on  the  morrow  for  the  Con- 
tinent. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

CALAIS. 

It  was  upon  a lovely  evening  in  autumn,  as  the  Dover  steam- 
boat rounded  the  wooden  pier  at  Calais,  amid  a fleet  of  small 
boats  filled  with  eager  and  anxious  faces,  soliciting,  in  every 
species  of  bad  English  and  patois  French,  the  attention  and  pat- 
ronage of  the  passengers. 

“ Hotel  des  Bains,  milor.” 

“ Hotel  d’Angleterre,”  said  another,  in  a voice  of  the  most  im- 
posing superiority.  “ (Test  superbe — pretty  well.” 

“ Hotel  du  Nord,  votre  Excellence — remise  de  poste  and  ‘ de- 
lays 9 (query,  relays)  at  all  hours.” 

“ Commissionnaire,  miladi,”  sang  out  a small  shrill  treble  from 
the  midst  of  a crowded  cock-boat,  nearly  swamped  beneath  our 
paddle-wheel. 

What  a scene  of  bustle,  confusion,  and  excitement  does  the 
deck  of  a steamer  present  upon  such  an  occasion.  Every  one  is 
running  hither  or  thither.  Sauve  que  peut  is  now  the  watch- 
word ; and  friendships  that  promised  a lifelong  endurance  only 
half  an  hour  ago,  find  here  a speedy  dissolution.  The  lady  who 
slept  all  night  upon  deck,  enveloped  in  the  folds  of  your  Astra- 
khan cloak,  scarcely  deigns  an  acknowledgment  of  you,  as  she 
adjusts  her  ringlets  before  the  looking-glass  over  the  stove  in 
the  cabin.  The  polite  gentleman,  that  would  have  flown  for  a 
reticule  or  a smelling-bottle  upon  the  high  seas,  won’t  leave  his 
luggage  in  the  harbor ; and  the  gallantry  and  devotion  that 
stood  the  test  of  half  a gale  of  wind  and  a wet  jacket  is  not 
proof  when  the  safety  of  a carpet-bag  or  the  security  of  a “ Mack- 
intosh ” is  concerned. 

And  thus,  here,  as  elsewhere,  is  prosperity  the  touchstone  of 
good  feeling.  All  the  various  disguises  that  have  been  assumed, 
per  viaggio , are  here  immediately  abandoned,  and,  stripped  of  the 
travelling  costume  of  urbanity  and  courtesy,  which  they  put  on 
for  the  voyage,  they  stand  forth  in  all  the  unblushing  front  of 
selfishness  and  self-interest. 

Some  tender  scenes  yet  find  their  place  amid  the  ruins  of  this 


204 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


chaotic  state.  Here  may  be  seen  a careful  mother  adjusting  in- 
numerable shawls  and  handkerchiefs  round  the  throat  of  a 
sea-green  young  lady  with  a cough ; her  maid,  at  the  same  in 
stant,  taking  a tender  farewell  of  the  steward  in  the  after-cabin. 

Here,  is  a very  red-faced  and  hot  individual,  with  punch-col- 
ored breeches  and  gaiters,  disputing  “ one  brandy  too  much  ” 
in  his  bill,  and  vowing  that  the  company  shall  hear  of  it  when 
he  returns  to  England.  There,  a tall,  elderly  woman,  with  a 
Scotch-gray  eye,  and  a sharp  cheek-bone,  is  depositing  within 
her  muff  various  seizable  articles,  that  until  now  had  been  ly- 
ing  quietly  in  her  trunk.  Yonder,  that  raw-looking  young  gen- 
tleman, with  the  crumpled  frock-coat,  and  loose  cravat,  and  sea- 
sick visage,  is  asking  every  one  “ if  they  think  he  may  land  with- 
out a passport.”  You  scarcely  recognize  him  for  the  cigar-smok- 
ing dandy  of  yesterday,  that  talked  as  if  he  had  lived  half  his 
life  on  the  Continent.  While  there,  a rather  pretty  girl  is  look- 
ing intently  at  some  object  in  the  blue  water,  beside  the  rudder 
post.  You  are  surprised  you  cannot  make  it  out;  but  then, 
she  has  the  advantage  of  you,  for  the  tall,  well-looking  man, 
with  the  knowing  whiskers,  is  evidently  whispering  something 
in  her  ear. 

“ Steward,  this  is  not  my  trunk  ; mine  was  a leather ” 

“ All  the  ‘ leathers  9 are  gone  in  the  first  boat,  sir0” 

“ Most  scandalous  way  of  doing  business.” 

“ Trouble  you  for  two-and-sixpence,  sir.” 

“ There’s  Matilda  coughing  again,”  says  a thin,  shrewish  wom- 
an, with  a kind  of  triumphant  scowl  at  her  better  half ; “ but  you 
would  have  her  wear  that  thin  shawl  ! ” 

“ Whatever  may  be  the  fault  of  the  shawl,  I fancy  no  one  will 
reproach  her  ankles  for  thinness,”  murmurs  a young  Guardsman, 
as  he  peeps  up  the  companion-ladder. 

Amid  all  the  Babel  of  tongues  and  uproar  of  voices,  the 
thorough  bass  of  the  escape  steam  keeps  up  its  infernal  thunders, 
till  the  very  brain  reels,  and,  sick  as  you  have  been  of  the  voy- 
age, you  half  wish  yourself  once  more  at  sea,  if  only  to  have  a 
moment  of  peace  and  tranquillity. 

Numbers  now  throng  the  deck  who  have  never  made  their 
appearance  before.  Pale,  jaundiced,  and  crumpled,  they  have 
all  the  sea-sick  look  and  haggard  cheek  of  the  real  martyr — all 
except  one,  a stout,  swarthy,  brown-vrsaged  man,  of  about  forty, 
with  a frame  of  iron,  and  a voice  like  the  fourth  string  of  a vio- 
loncello. You  wonder  why  he  should  have  taken  to  his  bed : 
learn,  then,  that  he  is  His  Majesty’s  courier  from  the  Foreign 
Office,  with  despatches  to  Constantinople,  and  that,  as  he  is  not 
destined  to  lie  down  in  a bed  for  the  next  fourteen  days,  he  is 


CALAIS. 


205 


glad  even  of  the  narrow  resemblance  to  one  he  finds  in  the  berth 
of  a steamboat.  At  length  you  are  on  shore,  and  marched  off 
in  a long  string,  like  a gang  of  convicts,  to  the  Bureau  de  l’Oct- 
roi ; and  here  is  begun  an  examination  of  the  luggage,  which 
promises,  from  its  minuteness,  to  last  for  the  three  months  you 
destined  to  spend  in  Switzerland.  At  the  end  of  an  hour  you 
discover  that  the  soi-disant  commissionnaire  will  transact  all  this 
affair  for  a few  francs  ; and,  after  a tiresome  wait  in  a filthy 
room,  jostled,  elbowed,  and  trampled  upon  by  boors  with  sabots, 
you  adjourn  to  your  inn,  and  begin  to  feel  that  you  are  not  in 
England. 

Our  little  party  had  but  few  of  the  miseries  here  recounted  to 
contend  with.  My  savoir  faire , with  all  modesty  be  it  spoken, 
had  been  long  schooled  in  the  art  and  practice  of  travelling ; 
and  while  our  less  experienced  fellow-travellers  were  deep  in 
the  novel  mysteries  of  cotton  stockings  and  petticoats,  most  os- 
tentatiously displayed  upon  every  table  of  the  Bureau,  we  were 
comfortably  seated  in  the  handsome  saloon  of  the  Hotel  du  Nord, 
looking  out  upon  a pretty  grass-plot,  surrounded  with  orange- 
trees,  and  displaying  in  the  middle  a fountain  about  the  size  of 
a walking-stick. 

“ Now,  Mr.  Lorrequer,”  said  Mrs.  Bingham,  as  she  seated 
herself  by  the  open  window,  “ never  forget  how  totally  depen- 
dent we  are  upon  your  kind  offices.  Isabella  has  discovered 
already  that  the  French  of  Mountjoy  Square,  however  intelligi- 
ble in  that  neighborhood,  and  even  as  far  as  Mount  Street,  is 
Coptic  and  Sanscrit  here ; and,  as  for  myself,  I intend  to  affect 
deaf-and-dumbness  till  I reach  Paris,  where  I hear  every  one 
can  speak  English  a little.” 

“ Now,  then,  to  begin  my  functions,”  said  I,  as  I rang  for  the 
waiter,  and  ran  over  in  my  mind  rapidly  how  many  invaluable 
hints  for  my  new  position  my  present  trip  might  afford  me,  “ al- 
ways provided  ” (as  the  lawyers  say),  that  Lady  Jane  Callonby 
might  feel  herself  tempted  to  become  my  travelling  companion, 

in  which  case But,  confound  it,  how  I am  castle-building 

again  ! Meanwhile,  Mrs.  Bingham  is  looking  as  hungry  and 
famished  as  though  she  would  eat  the  waiter.  “ Ha  ! this  is  the 
carte” 

“ Now,  then,  to  order  supper.” 

“ Cotelettes  d’agneau.” 

“ Mayonnaise  de  homard.” 

“ Perdreaux  rouges  aux  truffes — mark  that,  aux  truffes.” 

“ Gelee  au  maraschino.” 

“ And  the  wine,  sir,”  said  the  waiter,  with  a look  of  approval 
at  my  selection.  “ Champagne — no  other  wine,  sir  ? ” 


2o6 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


“ No,”  said  I,  “ champagne  only.  Frappe,  of  course,”  I 
added.  And  the  waiter  departed  with  a bow  that  would  have 
graced  St.  James’s. 

As  long  as  our  immaterial  and  better  part  shall  be  doomed  to 
keep  company  with  its  fleshy  tabernacle,  with  all  its  attendant 
miseries  of  gout  and  indigestion,  how  much  of  our  enjoyment  in 
this  world  is  dependent  upon  the  mere  accessory  circumstances 
by  which  the  business  of  life  is  carried  on  and  maintained,  and 
to  despise  which  is  neither  good  policy  nor  sound  philosophy. 
In  this  conclusion,  a somewhat  long  experience  of  the  life  of  a 
traveller  has  fully  established  me.  And  nowhere  does  it  press 
more  forcibly  upon  the  mind  than  when  first  arrived  in  a conti- 
nental inn,  after  leaving  the  best  hotels  of  England  still  fresh 
in  your  memory.  I do  not  for  a moment  dispute  the  very  great 
superiority  in  comfort  of  the  latter,  by  which  I would  be  under- 
stood to  mean  all  those  resemblances  to  one’s  own  home  which 
an  English  hotel  so  eminently  possesses,  and  every  other  one 
so  markedly  wants  ; but  1 mean  that  in  contrivances  to  elevate 
the  spirit,  cheer  the  jaded  and  tired  wayfarer  by  objects  which, 
however  they  may  appeal  to  the  mere  senses,  seem,  at  least,  but 
little  sensual,  give  me  a foreign  inn ; let  me  have  a large, 
spacious  saloon,  with  its  lofty  walls,  and  its  airy,  large-paned 
windows  (I  shall  not  ojbject  if  the  cornices  and  mouldings  be 
gilded,  because  such  is  usually  the  case) — let  the  sun  and  heat 
of  a summer’s  day  come  tempered  through  the  deep  lattices  of 
a well-fitting  “jalousie,”  bearing  upon  them  the  rich  incense  of  a 
fragrant  orange-tree  in  blossom — and  the  sparkling  drops  of  a 
neighboring  fountain,  the  gentle  plash  of  which  is  faintly  audi- 
ble amid  the  hum  of  the  drone-bee — let  such  be  the  agremens 
without — while  within,  let  the  more  substantial  joys  of  the  table 
await,  in  such  guise  as  only  a French  cuisine  can  present  them — 
give  me  these,  I say,  and  I shall  never  sigh  for  the  far-famed 
and  long-deplored  comforts  of  a box  in  a coffee-room,  like  a pew 
in  a parish  church,  though  certainly  not  so  well  cushioned,  and 
fully  as  dull,  with  a hot  waiter  and  a cold  beefsteak — the  only 
thing  higher  than  your  game  being  your  bill,  and  the  only  thing 
less  drinkable  than  your  port  being  the  porter. 

With  such  exotic  notions,  imagine,  my  dear  reader,  whether 
or  not  I felt  happy  as  I found  myself  seated  between  my  two 
fair  friends  doing  the  honors  of  a little  supper,  and  assisting  the 
exhilaration  of  our  champagne  by  such  efforts  of  wit  as,  under 
favorable  circumstances  like  these,  are  ever  successful — and 
which,  being  like  the  foaming  liquid  which  washes  them  down, 
to  be  swallowed  without  waiting,  are  ever  esteemed  good,  from 
the  excitement  that  results,  and  never  seriously  canvassed  for 


CALAIS . 


207 


any  more  sterling  merit.  Nothing  ever  makes  a man  so  agree* 
able  as  the  belief  that  he  is  so ; and  certainly  my  fair  compan- 
ions appeared  to  have  the  most  excellent  idea  of  my  powers  in 
that  respect ; and  I fancy  that  I made  more  bons  mots , hit  off  more 
epigrams,  and  invented  more  choice  incidents  on  that  happy 
evening,  than,  if  now  remembered,  would  suffice  to  pay  my 
tailor’s  bill,  when  collated  for  Bentley’s  Miscellany , and  illustrated 
by  Cruikshank.  Alas ! that,  like  the  good  liquor  that  seasoned 
them,  both  are  gone  by,  and  I am  left  but  to  chronicle  the  mem- 
ory of  the  fun  in  dullness,  and  counterfeit  the  effervescence  of* 
the  grape-juice  by  soda-water.  One  thing,  however,  is  certain — 
we  formed  a most  agreeable  party;  and  if  a feeling  of  gloom 
ever  momentarily  shot  through  my  mind,  it  was,  that  evenings 
like  these  came  so  rarely  in  this  work-a-day  world,  that  each 
such  should  be  looked  on  as  our  last. 

If  I had  not  already  shown  myself  up  to  my  reader  as  a 
weathercock  of  the  first  water,  perhaps  I should  now  hesitate 
about  confessing  that  I half  regretted  the  short  space  during 
which  it  should  be  my  privilege  to  act  as  the  guide  and  mentor 
of  my  two  friends.  The  impetuous  haste  which  I before  felt 
necessary  to  exercise  in  reaching  Paris  immediately  was  now 
tempered  by  prudent  thoughts  about  travelling  at  night,  and  re- 
flections about  sun-stroke  by  day ; and  even  moments  most  de- 
voted to  the  object  of  my  heart’s  aspirations  were  fettered  by 
the  very  philosophic  idea  that  it  could  never  detract  from  the 
pleasure  of  the  happiness  that  awaited  me,  if  I travelled  on  the 
primrose  path  to  its  attainment.  I argued  thus:  if  Lady  Jane 
be  true — if — if,  in  a word,  I am  destined  to  have  any  success  in 
the  Callonby  family,  then  will  a day  or  two  more  not  risk  it. 
My  present  friends  I shall,  of  course,  take  leave  of  at  Pari\ 
where  their  own  acquaintances  await  them ; and,  on  the  othe: 
hand,  should  I be  doomed  once  more  to  disappointment,  I am 
equally  certain  I should  feel  no  disposition  to  form  a new  attach- 
ment. Thus  did  I reason,  and  thus  I believed ; and  though  I 
was  a kind  of  “ consultation  opinion  ” among  my  friends  in 
“ suits  of  love,”  I was  really  then  unaware  that  at  no  time  is  a 
man  so  prone  to  fall  in  love  as  immediately  after  his  being  jilted. 
If  common  sense  will  teach  us  not  to  dance  a bolero  upon  a 
sprained  ankle,  so  might  it  also  convey  the  equally  important 
lesson,  not  to  expose  our  more  vital  and  inflammatory  organ  to 
the  fire  the  day  after  its  being  singed. 

Reflections  like  these  did  not  occur  to  me  at  this  moment; 
besides  that  I was  “ going  the  pace  ” with  a forty-horse  power 
of  agreeability  that  left  me  little  time  for  thought — least  of  all, 
*f  serious  thought.  So  stood  matters.  I had  iust  filled  our 


208 


HARR  Y L ORREQ  HER. 


tall,  slender  glasses  with  the  creaming  and  “ sparkling  ” source 
of  wit  and  inspiration,  when  the  loud  crack,  crack,  crack  of  a 
postilion’s  whip,  accompanied  by  the  shaking  trot  of  a heavy 
team,  and  the  roll  of  wheels,  announced  a new  arrival. 

“ Here  they  come,”  said  I ; “ only  look  at  them — four  horses 
and  one  postilion,  all  apparently  straggling  and  straying  after 
their  own  fancy,  but  yet  going  surprisingly  straight,  notwith- 
standing. See  how  they  come  through  that  narrow  archway — 
it  might  puzzle  the  best  four-in-hand  in  England  to  do  it  better.” 
“ What  a handsome  young  man,  if  he  had  not  those  odious 
mustachios.  Why,  Mr.  Lorrequer,  he  knows  you:  see,  he  is 
bowing  to  you.” 

“ Me!  Oh!  no.  Why,  surely,  it  must  be — the  devil — it  is 
Kilkee,  Lady  Jane’s  brother ! I know  his  temper  well.  One 
five  minutes’  observation  of  my  present  intimacy  with  my  fail 
friends,  and  adieu  to  all  hopes  for  me  of  calling  Lord  Callonby 
my  father-in-law.  There  is  not,  therefore,  a moment  to  lose.” 
As  these  thoughts  revolved  through  my  mind,  the  confusion  I 
felt  had  covered  my  face  with  scarlet,  ai  1,  with  a species  of 
blundering  apology  for  abruptly  leaving  them  for  a moment,  I 
ran  down  stairs  only  in  time  sufficient  to  anticipate  Kilkee’s 
questions  as  to  the  number  of  my  apartment,  to  which  he  was 
desirous  of  proceeding  at  once.  Our  first  gn.ctings  over,  Kilkee 
questioned  me  as  to  my  route,  adding,  that  his  now  was  neces- 
sarily an  undecided  one,  for,  if  his  family  happened  not  to  be  at 
Paris,  he  should  be  obliged  to  seek  after  them  among  the  Ger- 
man watering-places.  “ In  any  case,  Lorrequer,”  said  he,  “ we 
shail  hunt  them  in  couples.  I must  insist  upon  you  coming 
along  with  me.” 

‘ Oh  ! that,”  said  I,  “ you  must  not  think  of.  Your  carriage 
is  a coupe,  and  I cannot  think  of  crowding  you.” 

“ Why,  you  don’t  seriously  wish  to  affront  me,  I hope ; for  I 
flatter  myself  that  a more  perfect  carriage  for  two  people  can- 
not be  built.  Hobson  made  it  on  a plan  of  my  own,  and  I am 
excessively  proud  of  it,  I assure  you.  Come,  that  matter  is  de- 
cided— now  for  supper.  Are  there  many  English  here  just 
now  ? By  the  bye,  the  ladies  I think  I saw  you  standing  with 
on  the  balcony — who  are  they  ? ” 

“ Oh  ! the  ladies — oh  ! yes,  people  I came  over  with ” 

“ One  was  pretty,  I fancied.  Have  you  supped  ? Just  order 
something,  will  you  ? meanwhile,  I shall  write  a few  lines  before 
the  post  leaves.”  Saying  which,  he  dashed  up  stairs  after  the 
waiter,  and  left  me  to  my  meditations. 

“ This  begins  to  be  pleasant,”  thought  I,  as  the  door  closed, 
leaving  me  alone  in  the  salon . In  circumstances  of  such  mo- 


CALAIS. 


209 


ment  I had  never  felt  so  nonplussed  as  now,  how  to  decline 
Kilkee’s  invitation,  without  discovering  my  intimacy  with  the 
Binghams — and  yet  I could  not,  by  any  possibility,  desert  them 
thus  abruptly.  Such  was  the  dilemma.  “ I see  but  one  thing 
for  it,”  said  I,  gloomily,  as  I strode  through  the  coffee-room, 
with  my  head  sunk,  and  my  hands  behind  my  back — “ I see  but 
one  thing  left — I must  be  taken  ill  to-night,  and  not  be  able  to 
leave  my  bed  in  the  morning — a fever — a contagious  fever — 
blue  and  red  spots  all  over  me — and  be  raving  wildly  before 
breakfast-time ; and  if  ever  any  discovery  takes  place  of  my  in- 
timacy above  stairs,  I must  only  establish  it  as  a premonitory 
symptom  of  insanity,  which  seized  me  in  the  packet.  And  now 
for  a doctor  that  will  understand  my  case,  and  listen  to  reason, 
as  they  would  call  it  in  Ireland.”  With  this  idea  uppermost,  I 
walked  out  into  the  court-yard  to  look  for  a commissionnaire  to 
guide  me  in  my  search.  Around  on  every  side  of  me  stood  the 
various  carriages  and  vehicles  of  the  hotel  and  its  inmates,  to 
the  full  as  distinctive  and  peculiar  in  character  as  their  owners. 
“ Ah  ! there  is  Kilkee’s,”  said  I,  as  my  eye  lighted  upon  the 
well-balanced  and  elegant  little  carriage  which  he  had  been  only 
with  justice  encomimizing.  “ It  is  certainly  perfect,  and  yet  I’d 
give  a handful  of  louis  d’or  if  it  was  like  that  venerable  cabrio- 
let yonder,  with  the  one  wheel  and  no  shafts.  But  alas  ! those 
springs  give  little  hope  of  a break-down,  and  that  confounded 
axle  will  outlive  the  patentee.  But  still,  can  nothing  be  done — 
eh  ? Come,  the  thought  is  a good  one.  I say,  gammon , who 
greases  the  wheels  of  the  carriages  here  ? ” 

“ C’est  moi , monsieur ,”  said  a great  oaf,  in  wooden  shoes  and 
a blouse. 

“ Well,  then,  do  you  understand  these  ? ” said  I,  touching  the 
patent  axle-boxes  with  my  cane. 

He  shook  his  head. 

“ Then  who  does  here  ? ” 

“ Ah  ! Michel  understands  them  perfectly.” 

“ Then  bring  him  here,”  said  I. 

In  a few  minutes  a little,  shrewd  old  fellow,  with  a smith’s 
apron,  made  his  appearance,  and  introduced  himself  as  M. 
Michel.  I had  not  much  difficulty  in  making  him  master  of  my 
plan,  which  was,  to  detach  one  of  the  wheels,  as  if  for  the 
purpose  of  oiling  the  axle,  and  afterwards  render  it  incapable  of 
being  replaced — at  least  for  twenty-four  hours. 

“ This  is  my  idea,”  said  I ; “ nevertheless,  do  not  be  influ- 
enced by  me.  All  I ask  is,  disable  the  carriage  from  proceed- 
ing to-morrow,  and  here  are  three  louis  d’or  at  your  service.” 

“ Soyez  bien  tranquille , monsieur  ; milor  shall  spend  to-morrow 
14 


210 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


in  Calais  if  I know  anything  of  my  art.”  Saying  which,  he  set 
out  in  search  of  his  tools,  while  I returned  to  the  salon  with  my 
mind  relieved,  and  fully  prepared  to  press  the  urgency  of  my 
reaching  Paris  without  any  delay. 

“ Well,  Lorrequer,”  said  Kilkee,  as  I entered,  “here  is  supper 
waiting,  and  I am  as  hungry  as  a wolf.” 

“ Oh  ! I beg  pardon — I’ve  been  getting  everything  in  readb 
ness  for  our  start  to-morrow  morning,  for  I have  not  told  you 
how  anxious  I am  to  get  to  Paris  before  the  8th — some  family 
business,  which  requires  my  looking  after,  compelling  me  to  do 
so.” 

“ As  to  that,  let  your  mind  be  at  rest,  for  I shall  travel  to- 
morrow night  if  you  prefer  it.  Now  for  the  Vohtay . Why,  you 
are  not  drinking  your  wine.  What  do  you  say  to  our  paying 
our  respects  to  the  fair  ladies  above  stairs  ? I am  sure  the  at- 
tentions you  have  practised  coming  over  would  permit  the  lib- 
erty.” 

“Oh,  hang  it,  no  ! There’s  neither  of  them  pretty,  and  I 
should  rather  avoid  the  risk  of  making  a regular  acquaintance 
with  them,”  said  I. 

“ As  you  like,  then — only,  as  you’ll  not  take  any  wine,  let  us 
have  a stroll  through  the  town.” 

After  a short  ramble  through  the  town,  in  which  Kilkee  talked 
the  entire  time,  but  of  what  I know  not,  my  thoughts  being  upon 
my  own  immediate  concerns,  we  returned  to  the  hotel.  As  we 
entered  the  porte-cochere , my  friend  Michel  passed  me,  and  as 
he  took  off  his  hat  in  salutation,  gave  me  one  rapid  glance  of 
his  knowing  eye,  that  completely  satisfied  me  that  Hobson’s 
pride  in  my  friend’s  carriage  had  by  that  time  received  quite 
sufficient  provocation  to  throw  him  into  an  apoplexy. 

“ By  the  bye,”  said  I,  “ let  us  see  your  carriage.  I am  curi- 
ous to  look  at  it” — (and  so  I was). 

“ Well,  then,  come  along  this  way  ; they  have  placed  it  under 
some  of  these  sheds,  which  they  think  coach-houses.” 

I followed  my  friend  through  the  court  till  we  arrived  near 
the  fatal  spot  ; but  before  reaching  he  had  caught  a glimpse  of 
the  mischief,  and  shouted  out  a most  awful  imprecation  upon 
the  author  of  the  deed  which  met  his  eye.  The  fore-wheel  of 
the  coupS  had  been  taken  from  the  axle,  and  in  the  difficulty  of 
so  doing,  from  the  excellence  of  the  workmanship,  two  of  the 
spokes  were  broken,  the  patent  box  was  a mass  of  rent  metal, 
and  the  end  of  the  axle  turned  downwards  like  a hoe. 

I cannot  convey  any  idea  of  poor  Kilkee’s  distraction  ; and, 
in  reality,  my  own  was  little  short  of  it ; for  the  wretch  had  so 
far  outstripped  my  orders  that  I became  horrified  at  the  cruel 


THE  GENDARME. 


21\ 


destruction  before  me.  We  both,  therefore,  stormed  in  the 
most  imposing  English  and  French,  first  separately  and  then 
together.  We  offered  a reward  for  the  apprehension  of  the  cul- 
prit, whom  no  one  appeared  to  know,  although,  as  it  happened, 
every  one  in  a large  household  was  aware  of  the  transaction  but 
the  proprietor  himself.  We  abused  all — inn-keeper,  waiters, 
ostlers,  and  chambermaids,  collectively  and  individually  ; con- 
demned  Calais  as  a den  of  iniquity,  and  branded  all  Frenchmen 
as  rogues  and  vagabonds.  This  seemed  to  alleviate  consider- 
ably my  friend’s  grief,  and  excite  my  thirst — fortunately,  per- 
haps, for  us,  for  if  our  eloquence  had  held  out  much  longer  I 
am  afraid  our  auditory  might  have  lost  their  patience  ; and, 
indeed,  I am  quite  certain,  if  our  French  had  not  been  in  nearly 
as  disjointed  a condition  as  the  spokes  of  the  caleche , such  must 
have  been  the  case. 

“ Well,  Lorrequer,  I suppose,  then,  we  are  not  destined  to  be 
fellow-travellers — for  if  you  must  go  to-morrow — 

“ Alas  ! it  is  imperative,”  said  I. 

“ Then,  in  any  case,  let  us  arrange  where  we  shall  meet,  for 
I hope  to  be  in  Paris  the  day  after  you.” 

“I’ll  stop  at  Meurice’s.” 

“ Meurice’s  be  it,”  said  he  ; “ so  now  good  night,  till  we  meet 
in  Paris.” 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE  GENDARME. 

I had  fortunately  sufficient  influence  upon  my  fair  friends  to 
persuade  them  to  leave  Calais  early  on  the  morning  following ; 
and  two  hours  before  Kilkee  had  opened  his  eyes  upon  this  mor- 
tal life  we  were  far  upon  the  road  to  Paris. 

Having  thus  far  perfectly  succeeded  in  my  plot,  my  spirit  rose 
rapidly,  and  I made  every  exertion  to  make  the  road  appear 
short  to  my  fellow-travellers.  This  part  of  France  is  unfortu- 
nately deficient  in  any  interest  from  scenery ; large  undivided 
tracts  of  waving  corn-fields,  with  a background  of  apparently  in- 
terminable forests,  and  occasionally,  but  rarely,  the  glimpse  of 
some  old  time-worn  chateau,  with  its  pointed  gable  and  terraced 
walk,  are  nearly  all  that  the  eye  can  detect  in  the  intervals  be- 
tween the  small  towns  and  villages.  Nothing,  however,  is  “flat 
or  unprofitable  ” to  those  who  desire  to  make  it  otherwise  ; good 
health,  good  spirits,  and  fine  weather  are  wonderful  travelling 


212 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


companions,  and  render  one  tolerably  independent  of  the 
charms  of  scenery.  Every  mile  that  separated  me  from  Calais, 
and  took  away  the  chance  of  being  overtaken,  added  to  my 
gayety,  and  I hatter  myself  that  a happier  party  have  rarely 
travelled  that  well-frequented  road. 

We  reached  Abbeville  to  dinner,  and  adjourned  to  the  beau- 
tiful little  garden  of  the  inn  for  our  coffee  ; the  evening  was  so 
delightful  that  I proposed  to  walk  on  the  Paris  road,  until  the 
coming  up  of  the  carriage,  which  required  a screw,  or  a washer, 
or  some  such  trifle  as  always  occurs  in  French  posting.  To  this 
“ mamma”  objected,  she  being  tired,  but  added,  that  Isabella 
and  I might  go  on,  and  that  she  would  take  us  up  in  half  an 
hour.  This  was  an  arrangement  so  very  agreeable  and  un- 
looked-for by  me,  that  I pressed  Miss  Bingham  as  far  as  I well 
could,  and  at  last  succeeded  in  overcoming  her  scruples,  and  per- 
mitting me  to  shawl  her.  One  has  always  a tremendous  power  of 
persuasion  with  the. uninitiated  abroad,  by  a reference  to  a stand- 
ard of  manners  and  habits  totally  different  from  our  own.  Thus 
the  talismanic  words : “ Oh,  don’t  be  shocked ; remember  you 
are  in  France,”  did  more  to  satisfy  my  young  friend’s  mind  than 
all  I could  have  said  for  an  hour.  Little  did  she  know  that  in 
England  only  has  an  unmarried  young  lady  any  liberty,  and  that 
the  standard  of  foreign  propriety  on  this  head  is  far,  very  far, 
more  rigid  then  our  own. 

“ La  premiere  rue  a gauche ,”  said  an  old  man  of  whom  I in- 
quired the  road,  “ Et puis”  added  I. 

“ And  then  quite  straight ; it  is  a chausse'e  all  the  way,  and  you 
cannot  mistake  it.” 

“ Now  for  it,  mademoiselle,”  said  I.  “ Let  us  try  if  we  can- 
not see  a good  deal  of  the  country  before  the  carriage  comes  up.” 

We  had  soon  left  the  town  behind,  and  reached  a beautifully 
shaded  high  road,  with  blossoming  fruit-trees,  and  honeysuckle- 
covered  cottages ; there  had  been  several  light  showers  during 
the  day,  and  the  air  had  all  the  fresh,  fragrant  feeling  of  an 
autumn  evening,  so  tranquillizing  and  calming  that  few  there 
are  who  have  not  felt,  at  some  time  or  other  of  their  lives,  its 
influence  upon  their  minds.  I fancied  my  fair  companion  did 
so,  for,  as  she  walked  beside  me,  her  silence,  and  the  gentle 
pressure  of  her  arm,  were  far  more  eloquent  than  words. 

If  that  extraordinary  flutter  and  flurry  of  sensations  which 
will  now  and  then  seize  you,  when  walking  upon  a lonely 
country  road  with  a pretty  girl  for  your  companion,  whose  arm 
is  linked  in  yours,  and  whose  thoughts,  as  far  as  you  can  guess, 
at  least,  are  travelling  the  same  path  with  your  own — if  this  be 
animal  magnetism,  or  one  of  ^ phenomena,  then  do  I swear 


THE  GENDARME. 


213 


by  Mesmer ! whatever  it  be,  delusion  or  otherwise,  it  has  given 
me  the  brightest  moments  of  my  life — these  are  the  real 
“ winged  dreams  ” of  pleasures  which  outlive  others  of  more 
absorbing  and  actual  interest  at  the  time.  After  all,  for  how 
many  of  our  happiest  feelings  are  we  indebted  to  the  weakness 
of  our  nature.  The  man  that  is  wise  at  nineteen,  je  lui  en  fais 
tnon  compliment,  but  I assuredly  do  not  envy  him  ; and  now, 
even  now,  when  I number  more  years  than  I should  like  to 
“ confess,”  rather  than  suffer  the  suspicious  watchfulness  of 
age  to  creep  on  me,  I prefer  to  “ go  on  believing,”  even 
though  every  hour  of  the  day  should  show  me  duped  and 
deceived.  While  I plead  guilty  to  this  impeachment,  let 
me  show,  in  mitigation,  that  it  has  its  enjoyments — first, 
although  I am  the  most  constant  and  devoted  man  breathing, 
as  a very  cursory  glance  at  these  “ Confessions  ” may  prove, 
yet  I have  never  been  able  to  restrain  myself  from  a 
propensity  to  make  love  merely  as  a pastime.  The  gambler 
that  sits  down  to  play  cards,  or  dice,  against  himself,  may 
perhaps  be  the  only  person  that  can  comprehend  this  tendency 
of  mine.  We  both  of  us  are  playing  for  nothing  (or  love, 
which  I suppose  is  synonymous) ; we  neither  of  us  put 
forth  our  strength  ; for  that  very  reason — and  in  fact,  like 
the  waiter  at  Vauxhall,  who  was  complimented  upon  the 
dexterity  with  which  he  poured  out  the  lemonade,  and  confessed 
that  he  spent  his  mornings  “ practising  with  vater,” — we  pass 
a considerable  portion  of  our  lives  in  a mimic  warfare,  which,  if 
it  seem  unprofitable,  is,  nevertheless,  pleasant. 

After  all  this  long  tirade,  need  I say  how  our  walk  proceeded  ? 
We  had  fallen  into  a kind  of  discussion  upon  the  singular 
intimacy  which  had  so  rapidly  grown  up  between  us,  and  which 
years  long  might  have  failed  to  engender.  We  attempted  also 
to  analyze  the  reasons  for,  and  the  nature  of,  the  friendship  thus 
so  suddenly  established — a rather  dangerous  and  difficult  topic, 
when  the  parties  were  both  young — one  eminently  handsome, 
and  the  other  disposed  to  be  most  agreeable.  Oh,  my  dear 
young  friends  of  either  sex,  whatever  your  feelings  be  for  one 
another,  keep  them  to  yourselves  ; I know  of  nothing  half  so 
hazardous  as  that  “ comparing  of  notes n which  sometimes 
happens.  Analysis  is  a beautiful  thing  in  mathematics  or 
chemistry,  but  it  makes  sad  havoc  when  applied  to  the  “ functions 
of  the  heart.” 

“ Mamma  appears  to  have  forgotten  us,”  said  Isabella,  as  she 
spoke,  after  walking  for  some  time  in  silence  beside  me. 

“ Oh,  depend  upon  it,  the  carriage  has  taken  all  this  time  to 
repair  ; but  are  you  tired  ? ” 


214 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


“ Oh,  by  no  means  ; the  evening  is  delightful,  but ” 

“Then,  perhaps  you  are  ennuyee ,”  said  I,  half  pettishly,  to 
provoke  a disclaimer  if  possible.  To  this  insidiously  put  query 
I received,  as  I deserved,  no  answer,  and  again  we  sauntered  on 
without  speaking. 

“ To  whom  does  that  chateau  belong,  my  old  friend  ? ” said 
I,  addressing  a man  on  the  roadside. 

“To  Monsieur  le  marquis,  sir/’  replied  he. 

“ But  what’s  his  name,  though  ? ” 

“Ah,  that  I can’t  tell  you,”  replied  the  man,  again. 

There  you  may  perceive  how,  even  yet,  in  provincial  France, 
the  old  respect  for  the  aristocracy  still  survives ; it  is  sufficient 
that  the  possessor  of  that  fine  place  is  “ Monsieur  le  marquis  ; ” 
but  any  other  knowledge  of  who  he  is,  and  what,  is  superfluous. 
“ How  far  are  we  from  the  next  village,  do  you  know  ? ” 

“ About  a league.” 

“ Indeed.  Why,  I thought  La  Scarpe  was  quite  near  us.” 
“Ah,  you  are  thinking  of  the  Amiens  road.” 

“ Yes,  of  course  ; and  is  not  this  the  Amiens  road  ? ” 

“Oh,  no;  the  Amiens  road  lies  beyond  those  low  hills  to  the 
right.  You  pass  the  turn  at  the  first  barriered 
uIs  it  possible  we  could  have  come  wrong?  ” 

“ Oh,  Mr.  Lorrequer,  don’t  say  so,  I entreat  of  you.” 

“ And  what  road  is  this,  then,  my  friend  ? ” 

“ This  is  the  road  to  Albert  and  Peronne.” 

“ Unfortunately,  I believe  he  is  quite  right.  Is  there  any 
cross-road  from  the  village  before  us  now  to  the  Amiens 
road  ? ” 

“Yes;  you  can  reach  it  about  two  leagues  hence.” 

“ And  we  can  get  a carriage  at  the  inn,  probably  ? ” 

“ Ah,  that  I am  not  sure  of.  Perhaps  at  the  Lion  d’Or  you 
may.” 

“ But  why  not  go  back  to  Abbeville  ? ” 

“ Oh,  Mrs.  Bingham  must  have  left  long  since,  and  besides, 
you  forget  the  distance ; we  have  been  walking  two  hours.” 

“ Now  for  the  village,”  said  I,  as  I drew  my  friend’s  arm 
closer  within  mine,  and  we  set  out  in  a fast  walk. 

Isabella  seemed  terribly  frightened  at  the  whole  affair ; what 
her  mamma  might  think,  and  what  might  be  her  fears  at  not 
finding  us  on  the  road,  and  a hundred  other  encouraging  reflec- 
tions of  this  nature,  she  poured  forth  unceasingly.  As  for  my- 
self, I did  not  know  well  what  to  think  of  it ; my  old  fondness 
ever  for  adventure  being  sufficiently  strong  in  me  to  give  a 
relish  to  anything  which  bore  the  least  resemblance  to  one. 
This  I now  concealed,  and  sympathized  with  my  fair  friend 


THE  GENDARME . 


215 

upon  our  mishap,  assuring  her,  at  the  same  time,  that  there 
could  be  no  doubt  of  our  overtaking  Mrs.  Bingham  before  her 
arrival  at  Amiens. 

44  Ah,  there  is  the  village  in  the  valley ; how  beautifully 
situated.  ” 

“ Oh,  I can’t  admire  anything  now,  Mr.  Lorrequer,  I am  so 
frightened.” 

44  But  surely  without  cause,”  said  I,  looking  tenderly  beneath 
her  bonnet. 

44  Is  this,”  she  answered,  “ nothing?  ” And  we  walked  on  in 
Hence  again. 

On  reaching  the  Lion  d’Or  we  discovered  that  the  only  con- 
eyance  to  be  had  was  a species  of  open  market-cart  drawn  by 
wo  horses,  and  in  which  it  was  necessary  that  my  fair  friend 
and  myself  should  seat  ourselves  side  by  side  upon  straw  : 
there  was  no  choice ; and  as  for  Miss  Bingham,  I believe,  if  an 
ass  with  panniers  had  presented  itself,  she  would  have  preferred 
it  to  remaining  where  she  was.  We,  therefore,  took  our  places, 
and  she  could  not  refrain  from  laughing  as  we  set  out  upon  our 
journey  in  this  absurd  equipage,  every  jolt  of  which  threw  us 
from  side  to  side,  and  rendered  every  attention  on  my  part 
requisite  to  prevent  her  being  upset. 

After  about  two  hours’  travelling  we  arrived  at  the  Amiens 
road,  and  stopped  at  the  barriere . I immediately  inquired  if  a 
carriage  had  passed,  resembling  Mrs.  Bingham’s,  and  learned 
that  it  had,  about  an  hour  before,  and  that  the  lady  in  it  had 
been  informed  that  two  persons,  like  those  she  asked  after,  had 
been  seen  in  a caliche,  driving  rapidly  to  Amiens,  upon  which 
she  set  out  as  fast  as  possible  in  pursuit. 

44  Certainly,”  said  I,  44  the  plot  is  thickening ; but  for  that  un- 
lucky mistake,  she  might,  in  all  probability,  have  waited  here 
for  us.  Amiens  is  only  two  leagues  now,  so  our  drive  will  not 
be  long,  and  before  six  o’clock  we  shall  all  be  laughing  over  the 
matter  as  a very  good  joke.” 

On  we  rattled,  and  as  the  road  became  less  frequented,  and 
the  shadows  lengthened,  I could  not  but  wonder  at  the  strange 
situations  which  the  adventurous  character  of  my  life  had  so 
often  involved  me  in.  Meanwhile,  my  fair  friend’s  spirits  be- 
came more  and  more  depressed,  and  it  was  not  without  the 
greatest  difficulty  I was  enabled  to  support  her  courage.  I as- 
sured her,  and  not  altogether  without  reason,  that  though  so 
often  in  my  eventful  career  accidents  were  occurring  which  ren- 
dered it  dubious  and  difficult  to  reach  the  goal  I aimed  at,  yet 
the  results  had  so  often  been  more  pleasant  than  I could  have 
anticipated,  that  I always  felt  a kind  of  involuntary  satisfaction 


2l6 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


at  some  apparent  obstacle  to  my  path,  setting  it  down  as  some 
especial  means  of  fortune,  to  heighten  the  pleasure  awaiting  me  ; 
“ and  now,”  added  I,  “ even  here,  perhaps,  in  this  very  mistake 
of  our  road — the  sentiments  I have  heard — the  feelings  I have 

given  utterance  to ” What  I was  about  to  say,  Heaven 

knows — perhaps  nothing  less  than  a downright  proposal  was 
coming , but  at  that  critical  moment  a gendarme  rode  up  to  the 
side  of  our  wagon,  and  surveyed  us  with  the  peculiarly  signif- 
icant scowl  his  order  is  gifted  with.  After  trotting  alongside 
for  a few  seconds,  he  ordered  the  driver  to  halt,  and,  turning 
abruptly  to  us,  demanded  our  passports.  Now  our  passports 
were,  at  that  precise  moment,  peaceably  reposing  in  the  side- 
pocket  of  Mrs.  Bingham's  carriage  ; I,  therefore,  explained  to 
the  gendarme  how  we  were  circumstanced,  and  added,  that  on 
arriving  at  Amiens  the  passports  should  be  produced.  To  this 
he  replied  that  all  might  be  perfectly  true,  but  he  did  not  believe 
a word  of  it — that  he  had  received  an  order  for  the  apprehension 
of  two  English  persons  travelling  that  road — and  that  he  should 
accordingly  request  our  company  back  to  Chantraine,  the  com- 
missaire  of  which  place  was  his  officer. 

“ But  why  not  take  us  to  Amiens,"  said  I ; “ particularly  when 
I tell  you  that  we  can  then  show  our  passports  ? " 

“ I belong  to  the  Chantraine  district,"  was  the  laconic  answer  ; 
and  like  the  gentleman  who  could  not  weep  at  the  sermon  be- 
cause he  belonged  to  another  parish,  this  specimen  of  a French 
Dogberry  would  not  hear  reason  except  in  his  own  district. 

No  arguments  which  I could  think  of  had  any  effect  upon 
him,  and  amid  a volley  of  entreaty  and  imprecation,  both  equally 
vain,  we  saw  ourselves  turn  back  upon  the  road  to  Amiens, 
and  set  out  at  a round  trot  to  Chantraine,  on  the  road  to  Ca- 
lais. 

Poor  Isabella,  I really  pitied  her ; hitherto  her  courage  had 
been  principally  sustained  by  the  prospect  of  soon  reaching 
Amiens  : now  there  was  no  seeing  where  our  adventure  was  to 
end.  Besides  that,  actual  fatigue,  from  the  wretched  convey- 
ance, began  to  distress  her,  and  she  was  scarcely  able  to  sup- 
port herself,  though  assisted  by  my  arm.  What  a perilous  po- 
sition mine,  whispering  consolation  and  comfort  to  a pretty  girl 
on  a lonely  road,  the  only  person  near  being  one  who  compre- 
hended nothing  of  the  language  we  spoke  in.  Ah,  how  little  do 
we  know  of  fate,  and  how  often  do  we  despise  circumstances 
that  determine  all  our  fortunes  in  the  world  ! To  think  that  a 
gendarme  should  have  anything  to  do  with  my  future  lot  in  life, 
and  that  the  real  want  of  a passport  to  travel  should  involve 
the  probable  want  of  a license  to  marry.  “ Yes,  it  is  quite  in 


THE  GENDARME. 


21 7 


keeping/’  thought  I,  “ with  every  step  I have  taken  through  life. 
I may  be  brought  before  the  ‘maire  ’ as  a culprit,  and  leave  him 
as  a Benedict.” 

On  reaching  the  town,  we  were  not  permitted  to  drive  to  the 
km,  but  at  once  conveyed  to  the  house  of  the  “ commissaire,” 
who  was  also  the  “ maire  ” of  the  district.  The  worthy  func- 
tionary was  long  since  in  bed,  and  it  was  only  after  ringing 
violently  for  half  an  hour  that  a head,  surmounted  with  a dirty 
cotton  nightcap,  peeped  from  an  upper  window,  and  seemed  to 
survey  the  assemblage  beneath  with  patient  attention.  By  this 
time  a considerable  crowd  had  collected  from  the  neighboring 
ale-houses  and  cabarets , who  deemed  it  a most  fitting  occasion  to 
honor  us  with  the  most  infernal  yells  and  shouts,  as  indicating 
their  love  of  justice  and  delight  in  detecting  knavery  ; and  that 
we  were  both  involved  in  such  suspicion  we  had  not  long  to 
learn.  Meanwhile,  the  poor  old  maire,  who  had  been  an  em- 
ploye in  the  stormy  days  of  the  Revolution,  and  also  under  Na- 
poleon, and  who  fully  concurred  with  Swift  that  “ a crowd  is  a 
mob,  if  composed  even  of  Bishops,”  firmly  believed  that  the  up- 
roar beneath  in  the  street  was  the  announcement  of  a new 
change  of  affairs  at  Paris,  determined  to  be  early  in  the  field, 
and  shouted,  therefore,  with  all  his  lungs — “ Vive  la  i^ation  ! — • 
Vive  la  charte ! — A has  les  autres  ! ” A tremendous  shout  of 
laughter  saluted  this  exhibition  of  unexpected  republicanism, 
and  the  poor  maire  retired  from  the  window,  having  learned  his 
mistake,  covered  with  shame  and  confusion. 

Before  the  mirth  caused  by  this  blunder  had  subsided,  the 
door  had  opened,  and  we  were  ushered  into  the  bureau,  accom- 
panied by  the  anxious  crowd,  all  curious  to  know  the  particu- 
lars of  our  crime. 

The  maire  soon  appeared,  his  nightcap  being  replaced  by 
a small  black  velvet  skull-cap,  and  his  lanky  figure  enveloped 
in  a tarnished  silk  dressing-gown  ; he  permitted  us  to  be  seated 
while  the  gendarme  recounted  the  suspicious  circumstances 
of  our  travelling,  and  produced  the  order  to  arrest  an  English- 
man and  his  wife  who  had  arrived  in  one  of  the  late  Boulogne 
packets,  and  who  had  carried  off  from  some  banking-house 
money  and  bills  to  a large  amount. 

“ I have  no  doubt  these  are  the  people,”  said  the  gendarme  ; 
u and  here  is  the  4 carte  descriptive.’  Let  us  compare  it: 

‘ Forty-two  or  forty-three  years  of  age.’  ” 

“ I trust,  Monsieur  le  maire,”  said  I,  overhearing  this,  “ that 
ladies  do  not  recognize  me  as  so  much.” 

“ ‘ Of  a pale  and  cadaverous  aspect,’  ” continued  the  gen- 
darme 


2l8 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


“ Civil  and  complimentary,  certainly,”  added  I. 

“ ‘ Squints  much  with  the  left  eye/  Look  at  Monsieur  le 
maire,  if  you  please,  sir,”  said  the  gendarme. 

Upon  this  the  old  functionary,  wiping  his  spectacles  with  a 
snuffy  handkerchief,  as  if  preparing  them  to  examine  an  eclipse 
of  the  sun,  regarded  me  fixedly  for  several  minutes,  and  said, 
“ Oh,  yes,  I perceive  it  plainly ; continue  the  description.” 

“ ‘ Five  feet  three  inches/  ” said  the  gendarme. 

“ Six  feet  one  in  England,  whatever  this  climate  may  have 
done  since.” 

“ 6 Speaks  broken  and  bad  French/  ” 

“ Like  a native,”  said  I ; “ at  least,  so  said  my  friends  in  the 
Chaussee  d’Antin,  in  the  year  fifteen.” 

Here  the  catalogue  ended,  and  a short  conference  between 
the  maire  and  the  gendarme  ensued,  which  ended  in  our  being 
committed  for  examination  on  the  morrow  ; meanwhile,  we  were 
to  remain  at  the  inn,  under  the  surveillance  of  the  gendarme. 

On  reaching  the  inn,  my  poor  friend  was  so  completely  ex- 
hausted, that  she  at  once  retired  to  her  room,  and  I proceeded 
to  fulfil  a promise  I had  made  her  to  despatch  a note  to  Mrs. 
Bingham  at  Amiens  by  a special  messenger,  acquainting  her 
with  all  our  mishaps,  and  requesting  her  to  come  or  send  to  our 
assistance.  This  done,  and  a good  supper  smoking  before  me, 
of  which  with  difficulty  I persuaded  Isabella  to  partake  in  her 
own  room,  I again  regained  my  equanimity,  and  felt  once  more 
at  ease. 

The  gendarme  in  whose  guardianship  I had  been  left  was  a 
fine  specimen  of  his  caste  ; a large  and  powerfully  built  man  of 
about  fifty,  with  an  enormous  beard  of  grizzly  brown  and  gray 
hair,  meeting  above  and  beneath  his  nether  lip  ; his  eyebrows  were 
heavy  and  beetling,  and  nearly  concealed  his  sharp  gray  eyes, 
while  a deep  sabre-wound  had  left  upon  his  cheek  a long  white 
scar,  giving  a most  warlike  and  ferocious  look  to  his  features. 

As  he  sat  apart  from  me  for  some  time,  silent  and  motionless, 
I could  not  help  imagining  in  how  many  a hard-fought  day  he 
had  borne  a part,  for  he  evidently,  from  his  age  and  bearing,  had 
been  one  of  the  soldiers  of  the  Empire.  I invited  him  to  par- 
take of  my  bottle  of  Medoc,  by  which  he  seemed  flattered. 
When  the  flask  became  low,  and  was  replaced  by  another,  he  ap- 
peared to  have  lost  much  of  his  constrained  air,  and  seemed  for- 
getting rapidly  the  suspicious  circumstances  which  he  supposed 
attached  to  me,  waxed  wondrous  confidential  and  communica- 
tive, condescending  to  impart  some  traits  of  a life  which  was  not 
without  its  vicissitudes,  for  he  had  been,  as  I suspected,  one  of 
the  “ Garde  ” — the  oH  Garde — was  wounded  at  Marengo,  and 


THE  GENDARME. 


2iq 

received  his  decoration  in  the  field  of  Wagmrn  from  the  hands 
of  the  Emperor  himself.  The  headlong  enthusiasm  of  attach- 
ment to  Napoleon  which  his  brief  and  stormy  career  elicited, 
even  from  those  who  suffered  long  and  deeply  in  his  behalf,  is 
not  one  of  the  least  singular  circumstances  which  this  portion  of 
history  displays.  While  the  rigors  of  the  conscription  had  in- 
vaded every  family  in  France,  from  Normandy  to  La  Vendee — 
while  the  un tilled  fields,  the  ruined  granaries,  the  half-deserted  vil- 
lages, all  attested  the  depopulation  of  the  land,  those  talismanic 
words,  VEmpereur  et  la  Gioire , by  some  magic  mechanism 
seemed  all-sufficient  not  only  to  repress  regret  and  suffering,  but 
even  stimulate  pride  and  nourish  valor ; and  even  yet,  when  it 
might  be  supposed  that  like  the  brilliant  spectacle  of  a magic 
lantern,  the  gaudy  pageant  had  passed  away,  leaving  only  the 
darkness  and  desolation  behind  it,  the  memory  of  those  days  un- 
der the  Empire  survives  untarnished  and  unimpaired,  and  every 
sacrifice  of  friends  or  fortune  is  accounted  but  little  in  the  bal- 
ance when  the  honor  of  la  belle  France  and  the  triumphs  of  the 
grande  armee  are  weighed  against  them.  The  infatuated  and  en- 
thusiastic followers  of  this  great  man  would  seem,  in  some  re- 
spects, to  resemble  the  drunkard  in  the  vaudeville , who  alleged 
as  his  excuse  for  drinking,  that  whenever  he  was  sober,  his  pov- 
erty disgusted  him.  “ My  cabin,”  said  he,  “is  a cell,  my  wife  a 
mass  of  old  rags,  my  child  a wretched  object  of  misery  and  mal- 
ady. But  give  me  brandy,  let  me  only  have  that,  and  then  my 
hut  is  a palace,  my  wife  is  a princess,  and  my  child  the  very 
picture  of  health  and  happiness  ; ” so  with  these  people — intox* 
icated  with  the  triumphs  of  their  nation,  tete  monte'e  with  victory 
— they  cannot  exist  in  the  horror  of  sobriety  which  peace  neces- 
sarily enforces  ; and  whenever  the  subject  turns  in  conversation 
upon  the  distresses  of  the  time  or  the  evil  prospects  of  the 
country,  they  call  out,  not  like  the  drunkard  for  brandy,  but  in 
the  same  spirit  they  say,  “ Ah,  if  you  would  again  see  France 
flourishing  and  happy,  let  us  once  more  have  our  croix  dlhonneur, 
our  epaulets,  our  voluntary  contributions,  our  Murillos,  our 
Velasquez,  our  spoils  from  Venice,  and  our  increased  territories 
to  rule  over.”  This  is  the  language  of  the  Bonapartist  every- 
where and  at  all  seasons  ; and  the  mass  of  the  nation  is  wonder- 
fully disposed  to  participate  in  the  sentiment.  The  Empire  was 
the  “ ^Eneid”  of  the  nation,  and  Napoleon  the  only  hero  they 
could  believe  in.  You  may  satisfy  yourself  of  this  easily. 
Every  cafe  will  give  evidence  of  it,  every  society  bears  testimony 
to  it,  and  even  the  most  wretched  vaudeville , however  trivial  the 
interest,  however  meagre  the  story  and  poor  the  diction,  let  the 
Emperor  but  have  his  rdle.  iet  him  be  as  laconic  as  possible,  carry 


220 


HARRY  L ORREQUER. 


his  hands  behind  his  back,  wear  the  well-known  low  cocked  hat 
and  the  redingote  grise , the  success  is  certain,  every  sentence 
he  utters  is  applauded,  and  not  a single  allusion  to  the  Pyramids, 
the  sun  of  Austerlitz,  la  Gloire , et  la  Vieille  Garde , but  is  sure 
to  bring  down  thunders  of  acclamation.  But  I am  forgetting 
myself,  and  perhaps  my  reader  too ; the  conversation  of  the  old 
gendarme  accidentally  led  me  into  reflections  like  these,  and  he 
was  well  calculated  in  many  ways  to  call  them  forth.  His  de- 
voted attachment,  his  personal  love  of  the  Emperor,  of  which  he 
gave  me  some  touching  instances,  was  admirably  illustrated  by 
an  incident,  which  I am  inclined  to  tell,  and  hope  it  may  amuse 
the  reader  as  much  as  it  did  myself  on  hearing  it. 

When  Napoleon  had  taken  possession  of  the  papal  dominions, 
as  he  virtually  did,  and  carried  off  the  Pope  Pius  VI.  to  Paris, 
this  old  soldier,  then  a musketeer  in  the  “ Garde,”  formed  part 
of  the  company  that  mounted  guard  over  the  holy  father.  Dur- 
ing the  earlier  months  of  the  holy  father’s  confinement  he  was 
at  liberty  to  leave  his  apartments  at  any  hour  he  pleased,  and 
cross  the  court-yard  of  the  palace  to  the  chapel  where  he  per- 
formed mass.  At  such  moments  the  portion  of  the  Imperial 
Guard  then  on  duty  stood  under  arms,  and  received  from  the 
august  hand  of  the  Pope  his  benediction  as  he  passed.  But  one 
morning  a hasty  express  arrived  from  the  Tuileries,  and  the  officer 
on  duty  communicated  his  instructions  to  his  party,  that  the 
apostolic  vicar  was  not  to  be  permitted  to  pass,  as  heretofore,  to 
the  chapel,  and  that  a mo^t  rigid  superintendence  was  to  be  ex- 
ercised over  his  movements.  My  poor  companion  had  his  turn 
for  duty  on  that  ill-starred  day ; he  had  not  been  long  at  his 
post  when  the  sound  of  footsteps  was  heard  approaching,  and  he 
soon  saw  the  procession,  which  always  attended  the  holy  father 
to  his  devotions,  advancing  towards  him  ; he  immediately  placed 
himself  across  the  passage,  and,  with  his  musket  in  rest,  barred 
the  exit,  declaring,  at  the  same  time,  that  such  were  his  orders. 
In  vain  the  priests  who  formed  the  cortege  addressed  themselves 
to  his  heart,  and  spoke  to  his  feelings,  and,  at  last,  finding  little 
success  by  these  methods,  explained  to  him  the  mortal  sin  and 
crime,  for  which  eternal  damnation  itself  might  not  be  a too 
heavy  retribution,  if  he  persisted  in  preventing  his  holiness  to 
pass,  and  thus  be  the  means  of  opposing  an  obstacle  to  the  head 
of  the  whole  Catholic  Church  from  celebrating  the  mass.  The 
soldier  remained  firm  and  unmoved-  the  only  answer  he  returned 
being,  “ that  he  had  his  orders,  and  dared  not  disobey  them.” 
The  Pope,  however,  persisted  in  his  resolution,  and  endeavored 
to  get  by,  when  the  hardy  veteran  retreated  a step,  and  placing 
his  musket  and  bayonet  at  the  charge,  called  out,  “An  nom  de 


THE  INN  A T CHANTRA INE. 


221 


TEmpereur”  when  the  pious  party  at  last  yielded,  and  slowly  re- 
tired within  the  palace. 

Not  many  days  after,  this  severe  restriction  was  recalled,  and 
once  more  the  father  was  permitted  to  go  to  and  from  the  chape) 
of  the  palace  at  such  times  as  he  pleased,  and  again,  as  before, 
in  passing  the  corridor,  the  guards  presented  arms,  and  received 
the  holy  benediction,  all  except  one ; upon  him  the  head  of  the 
Church  frowned  severely,  and  turned  his  back  while  extending 
his  pious  hands  towards  the  others.  “ And  yet,;’  said  the  poor 
fellow,  in  concluding  his  story — “ and  yet  I could  not  have  done 
otherwise ; I had  my  orders,  and  must  have  followed  them,  and 
had  the  Emperor  commanded  it,  I should  have  run  my  bayonet 
through  the  body  of  the  holy  father  himself. 

“ Thus,  you  see,  my  dear  sir,  how  I have  loved  the  Emperor, 
for  I have  many  a day  stood  under  fire  for  him  in  this  world,  et 
il fant  que  f dime  encore  au  feu  poitr  lui  apres  ma  mortp 

He  received  in  good  part  the  consolations  I offered  him  on 
this  head,  but  I plainly  saw  they  did  not,  could  not  relieve  his 
mind  from  the  horrible  conviction  he  lay  under,  that  ids  soul’s 
safety  forever  had  been  bartered  for  his  attachment  to  the 
Emperor. 

This  story  had  brought  us  to  the  end  of  the  third  bottle  of 
Medoc ; and,  as  I was  neither  the  Pope,  nor  had  any  very  de- 
cided intentions  of  saying  mass,  he  offered  no  obstacle  to  my 
retiring  for  the  night,  and  betaking  myself  to  my  bed. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE  INN  AT  CHANTRAINE. 

When  contrasted  with  the  comforts  of  an  English  bedroom  in 
a good  hotel,  how  miserably  short  does  the  appearance  of  a 
French  one  fall  in  the  estimation  of  the  tired  traveller.  In  ex- 
change for  the  carpeted  floor,  the  well-curtained  windows,  the 
richly-tapestried  bed,  the  well-cushioned  arm-chair,  and  the 
innumerable  other  luxuries  which  await  him,  he  has  nought  but 
a narrow,  uncurtained  bed,  a bare  floor — occasionally  a flagged 
one — three  hard,  cane-bottomed  chairs,  and  a looking-glass, 
which  may  convey  an  idea  of  how  you  would  look  under  the  com- 
bined influence  of  the  cholera  and  a stroke  of  apoplexy,  one  half 
of  your  face  being  twice  the  length  of  the  other,  and  the  entire 
of  it  of  a bluish-green  tint — pretty  enough  in  one  of  Turner’s 
landscapes,  but  no.  at  all  becoming  when  applied  to  the  “ human 


222 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


face  divine.”  Let  no  late  arrival  from  the  Continent  contradict 
me  here  by  his  late  experiences,  which  a stray  twenty  pounds 
and  the  railroads — (confound  them  for  the  same) — have  enabled 
him  to  acquire.  I speak  of  matters  before  it  occurred  to  all 
Charing  Cross  and  Cheapside  to  “ take  the  water  ” between 
Dover  and  Calais,  and  inundate  the  world  with  the  wit  of  the 
Cider  Cellars  and  the  Hole  in  the  Wall.  No  ! In  the  days  I 
write  of,  the  travelled  were  of  another  genus,  and  you  might  dine 
at  Very’s,  or  have  your  box  at  Les  Italiens,  without  being  dunned 
by  your  tailor  at  the  one,  or  confronted  with  your  washerwoman 
at  the  other.  Perhaps  I have  written  all  this  in  the  spite  and 
malice  of  a man  who  feels  that  his  sovereign  only  goes  half  as 
far  now  as  heretofore,  and  attributes  all  his  diminished  enjoy- 
ments and  restricted  luxuries  to  the  unceasing  current  of  his 
countrymen,  whom  fate,  and  the  law  of  imprisonment  for  debt, 
impel  hither.  Whether  I am  so  far  guilty  or  not  is  not  now  the 
question  ; suffice  it  to  say,  that  Harry  Lorrequer,  for  reasons 
best  known  to  himself,  lives  abroad,  where  he  will  be  most  happy 
to  see  any  of  his  old  and  former  friends  who  take  his  quarters 
en  route ; and  in  the  words  of  a bellicose  brother  of  the  pen,  but 
in  a far  different  spirit,  he  would  add,  “ that  any  person  who  feels 
himself  here  alluded  to  may  learn  the  author’s  address  at  his 
publisher’s.”  “ Now  let  us  go  back  to  our  muttons,”  as  Barney 
Coyle  used  to  say  in  the  Dublin  Library  formerly — for  Barney 
was  fond  of  French  allusions,  which  occasionally,  too,  he  gave 
in  their  own  tongue,  as  once  describing  an  interview  with  Lord 
Cloncurry,  in  which  he  broke  off  suddenly  the  conference,  adding, 
“I  told  him  I never  could  consent  to  such  a proposition,  and 
putting  my  chateau  (chapeau)  on  my  head,  I left  the  house  at 
once.” 

It  was  nearly  three  o’clock  in  the  morning  as,  accompanied 
by  the  waiter,  who,  like  others  of  his  tribe,  had  become  a kind 
of  somnambulist  ex-officio,  I wended  my  way  up  one  flight  of 
stairs,  and  down  another,  along  a narrow  corridor,  down  two 
steps,  through  an  ante-chamber,  and  into  another  corridor,  to 
No.  82,  my  habitation  for  the  night.  Why  I should  have  been 
so  far  conducted  from  the  habitable  portion  of  the  house  I had 
spent  my  evening  in,  I leave  the  learned  in  such  matters  to 
explain ; as  for  me,  I have  ever  remarked  it,  while  asking  for  a 
Chamber  in  a large,  roomy  hotel,  the  singular  pride  with  which 
you  are  ushered  up  grand  staircases,  down  passages,  through 
corridors,  and  up  narrow  back  flights,  till  the  blue  sky  is  seen 
through  the  skylight,  to  No.  199,  “ the  only  spare  bedroom  in 
the  house,”  while  the  silence  and  desolation  of  the  wholeestab- 
iiehment  would  seem  to  imply  far  otherwise—  the  only  evidence 


THE  INN  A 7 CHANTRA INE. 


223 


of  occupation  being  a pair  of  dirty  Wellingtons  at  the  door  of 
No.  7. 

“Well,  we  have  arrived  at  last,”  said  I,  drawing  a deep  sigh, 
as  I threw  myself  upon  a rickety  chair,  and  surveyed  rapidly  my 
meagre-looking  apartment. 

“ Yes,  this  is  Monsieur’s  chamber,”  said  the  waiter,  with  a very 
peculiar  look,  half  servile,  half  droll.  “ Madame  couche,  No.  28.” 

“ Very  well,  good-night,”  said  I,  closing  the  door  hastily,  and 
not  liking  the  further  scrutiny  of  the  fellow’s  eye,  as  he  fastened 
it  on  me,  as  if  to  search  what  precise  degree  of  relationship 
existed  between  myself  and  my  fair  friend,  whom  he  had  called 
“ Madame  ” purposely  to  elicit  an  observation  from  me.  “Ten 
to  one,  though,”  said  I,  as  I undressed  myself,  “but  they  think 
she  is  my  wife — how  good — but  again — ay,  it  is  very  possible, 
considering  we  are  in  France.  Numero  vingt-huit , quite  far 
enough  from  this  part  of  the  house,  I should  suppose,  from  my 
number — that  old  gendarme  was  a fine  fellow-r-what  strong 
attachment  to  Napoleon  ; and  the  story  of  the  Pope  ; I hope  I 
may  remember  that . Isabella,  poor  girl — this  adventure  must 
really  distress  her — hope  she  is  not  crying  over  it — what  a devil 
of  a hard  bed— and  it  is  not  five  feet  long,  too — and,  bless  my 
soul,  is  this  all  by  way  of  covering  ? why,  I shall  be  perished 
here.  Oh  ! I must  certainly  put  all  my  clothes  over  me  in  addi- 
tion ; unfortunately  there  is  no  hearth-rug — well,  there  is  no 
help  for  it  now,  so  let  me  try  to  sleep — numero  vingt-huit .” 

How  long  I remained  in  a kind  of  uneasy,  fitful  slumber,  I 
cannot  tell,  but  I awoke  shivering  with  cold,  puzzled  to  tell 
where  I was,  and  my  brain  addled  with  the  broken  fragments  of 
half  a dozen  dreams,  all  mingling  and  mixing  themselves  with 
the  unpleasant  realities  of  my  situation.  “ What  an  infernal 
contrivance  for  a bed,”  thought  I,  as  my  head  came  thump 
against  the  top,  while  my  legs  projected  far  beyond  the  foot-rail, 
the  miserable  portion  of  clothing  over  me  at  the  same  time 
being  only  sufficient  to  temper  the  night  air,  which  in  autumn  is 
occasionally  severe  and  cutting.  “This  will  never  do.  I must 
ring  the  bell,  and  rouse  the  house,  if  only  to  get  a fire,  if  they 
don’t  possess  such  a thing  as  blankets.”  I immediately  rose, 
and,  groping  my  way  along  the  wall,  endeavored  to  discover 
the  bell,  but  in  vain ; and  for  the  same  satisfactory  reason  that 
Von  Troil  did  not  devote  one  chapter  of  his  work  on  “ Iceland” 
to  “snakes,”  beca.use  there  were  none  such  there.  What  was 
now  to  be  done  ? About  the  geography  of  my  present  abode  I 
knew,  perhaps,  as  much  as  the  public  at  large  know  about  the 
Coppermine  River  and  Behring’s  Straits.  The  world,  it  was 
true,  was  before  me,  “ where  to  choose,”  admirable  things  for 


224 


HARRY  L ORREQ UER . 


an  epic,  but  decidedly  an  unfortunate  circumstance  for  a very 
cold  gentleman  in  search  of  a blanket.  Thus  thinking,  1 opened 
the  door  of  my  chamber,  and,  not  in  any  way  resolved  how  I 
should  proceed,  I stepped  forth  into  the  long  corridor,  which 
was  dark  as  midnight  itself. 

Tracing  my  path  along  the  wall,  I soon  reached  a door, 
which  I in  vain  attempted  to  open;  in  another  moment  I found 
another  and  another,  each  of  which  were  locked.  Thus  along 
the  entire  corridor  I felt  my  way,  making  every  effort  to  dis- 
cover where  any  of  the  people  of  the  house  might  have  concealed 
themselves,  but  without  success.  What  was  to  be  done  now  ? 
It  was  of  no  use  to  go  back  to  my  late  abode,  and  find  it  com- 
fortless as  I left  it ; so  I resolved  to  proceed  in  my  search.  By 
this  time  I had  arrived  at  the  top  of  a small  flight  of  stairs, 
which  I remembered  having  come  up,  and  which  led  to  another 
long  passage,  similar  to  the  one  I had  explored,  but  running  in 
a transverse  direction  ; down  this  I now  crept,  and  reached  the 
landing,  along  the  wall  of  which  I was  guided  by  my  hand,  as 
well  for  safety  as  to  discover  the  architrave  of  some  friendly 
door,  where  the  inhabitant  might  be  sufficiently  Samaritan  to 
lend  some  portion  of  his  bedclothes.  Door  after  door  followed 
in  succession  along  this  confounded  passage,  which  I began  to 
think  as  long  as  the  gallery  of  the  lower  one  ; at  last,  however, 
just  as  my  heart  was  sinking  within  me  from  disappointment, 
the  handle  of  a lock  turned,  and  I found  myself  inside  a chamber. 
How  was  I now  to  proceed ; for  if  this  apartment  did  not  con- 
tain any  of  the  people  of  the  hotel,  I had  but  a sorry  excuse  for 
disturbing  the  repose  of  any  traveller  who  might  have  been 
more  fortunate  than  myself  in  the  article  of  blankets.  To  go 
back,  however,  would  be  absurd,  having  already  taken  so  much 
trouble  to  find  out  a room  that  was  inhabited — for  that  such  was 
the  case,  a short,  thick  snore  assured  me — so  that  my  resolve 
was  at  once  made,  to  waken  the  sleeper,  and  endeavor  to  interest 
him  in  my  destitute  situation.  I accordingly  approached  the 
place  where  the  nasal  sounds  seemed  to  issue  from,  and  soon 
reached  the  post  of  a bed.  I waited  for  an  instant,  and  then 
began, — 

“ Monsieur,  voulez-vous  bien  me  permettre- ” 

“ As  to  short  whist,  I never  could  make  it  out,  so  there  is  an 
end  of  it,”  said  my  unknown  friend,  in  a low,  husky  voice,  which, 
strangely  enough,  was  not  totally  unfamiliar  to  me ; but  when 
or  how  I had  heard  it  before  I could  not  then  think. 

“Well,”  thought  I,  “he  is  an  Englishman,  at  all  events,  so  I 
hope  his  patriotism  may  forgive  my  intrusion,  so  here  goes  once 
more  to  rouse  him,  though  he  seems  a confoundedly  heavy 


THE  INN  A T CHANTRAINE.  225 

sleeper.  I beg  your  pardon,  sir,  but  unfortunately,  in  a point 
like  the  present,  perhaps ” 

“ Well,  do  you  mark  the  points,  and  I’ll  score  the  rubber,” 
said  he. 

“ The  devil  take  the  gambling  fellow’s  dreaming,”  thought  I, 
raising  my  voice  at  the  same  time. 

“ Perhaps  a cold  night,  sir,  may  suffice  as  my  apology.” 

“ Cold,  oh,  ay ! put  a hot  poker  in  it,”  muttered  he  ; “a  hot 
poker,  a little  sugar,  and  a spice  of  nutmeg — nothing  else — 
then  it’s  delicious.” 

“Upon  my  soul,  this  is  too  bad,”  said  I to  myself.  “Let  us 
see  what  shaking  will  do.  Sir,  sir,  I shall  feel  obliged  by ” 

“Well,  then,  don’t  shake  me,  and  I’ll  tell  you  where  I hid 
the  cigars — they  are  under  my  straw  hat  in  the  window.” 

“ Well,  really,”  thought  I,  “ if  this  gentleman’s  confessions 
were  of  an  interesting  nature,  this  might  be  good  fun ; but  as 
the  night  is  cold,  I must  shorten  the  seance , so  here  goes  for 
one  effort  more.” 

“ If,  sir,  you  could  kindly  spare  me  even  a small  portion  of 
your  bedclothes ” 

“ No,  thank  you,  no  more  wine  ; but  I’ll  sing  with  pleasure  ; ” 
and  here  the  wretch,  in  something  like  the  voice  of  a frog  with 
the  quinsy,  began,  “ 4 I’d  mourn  the  hopes  that  leave  me.”’ 
“ You  shall  mourn  something  else  for  the  same  reason,”  said 
I,  as,  losing  all  patience,  I seized  quilt  and  blankets  by  the 
corner,  and  with  one  vigorous  pull  wrenched  them  from  the 
bed,  and  darted  from  the  room  ; in  a second  I was  in  the  cor- 
ridor, trailing  my  spoil  behind,  which  in  my  haste  T had  not 
time  to  collect  in  a bundle.  I flew  rather  than  ran  along  the 
passage,  reached  the  stairs,  and  in  another  minute  had  gained 
the  second  gallery,  but  not  before  I heard  the  slam  of  a door 
behind  me,  and  the  same  instant  the  footsteps  of  a person 
running  along  the  corridor,  who  could  be  no  other  than  my 
pursuer,  effectually  aroused  by  my  last  appeal  to  his  charity. 
I darted  along  the  dark  and  narrow  passage,  but  soon  to  my 
horror  discovered  that  I must  have  passed  the  door  of  my 
chamber,  for  I had  reached  the  foot  of  a narrow  back  stair, 
which  led  to  the  grenier  and  the  servants’  rooms,  beneath  the 
roof.  To  turn  now  would  only  have  led  me  plump  in  the  face 
of  my  injured  countryman,  of  whose  thew  and  sinew  I was 
perfectly  ignorant,  and  did  not  much  like  to  venture  upon. 
There  was  little  time  for  reflection,  for  he  had  just  reached  the 
top  of  the  stair,  and  was  evidently  listening  for  §orne  c^ue  t0 
guide  him  on  ; stealthily  and  silently,  and  scarcely  drawing  breath, 
I mounted  the  narrow  stairs,  step  bv  step,  but  before  I had 
>5 


226 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


arrived  at  the  landing,  he  heard  the  rustle  of  the  bedclothes, 
and  again  gave  chase.  There  was  something  in  the  unrelent' 
ing  ardor  of  his  pursuit  which  suggested  to  my  mind  the  idea 
of  a most  uncompromising  foe  ; and  as  fear  added  speed  to  my 
steps,  I dashed  along  beneath  the  low-roofed  passage,  wonder- 
ing what  chance  of  escape  might  yet  present  itself.  Just  at 
this  instant,  the  hand  by  which  I had  guided  myself  along  the 
wall  touched  the  handle  of  a door — I turned  it — it  opened — I 
drew  in  my  precious  bundle,  and  closing  the  door  noiselessly, 
sat  down,  breathless  and  still,  upon  the  floor. 

Scarcely  was  this,  the  work  of  a second,  accomplished,  when 
the  heavy  tread  of  my  pursuer  resounded  on  the  floor. 

“ Upon  my  conscience  it’s  strange  if  I haven’t  you  now,  my 
friend,”  said  he,  “ you’re  in  a cul  de  sac  here,  as  they  say, 
if  I know  anything  of  the  house  ; and  faith  I’ll  make  a salad  of 
you,  when  I get  you,  that’s  all.  Devil  a dirtier  trick  ever  I 
heard  tell  of.” 

Need  I say  these  words  had  the  true  smack  of  an  Irish 
accent,  which  circumstance,  from  whatever  cause,  did  not  by 
any  means  tend  to  assuage  my  fears  in  the  event  of  discovery. 

However,  from  such  a misfortune  my  good  genius  now  de- 
livered me  ; for  after  traversing  the  passage  to  the  end,  he  at 
last  discovered  another,  which  led  by  a long  flight  to  the 
second  story,  down  which  he  proceeded,  venting  at  every  step 
his  determination  for  vengeance,  and  his  resolution  not  to 
desist  from  the  pursuit,  if  it  took  the  entire  night  for  it. 

“ Well  now,”  thought  I,  “ as  he  will  scarcely  venture  up  here 
again,  and  as  I may,  by  leaving  this,  be  only  incurring  the 
risk  of  encountering  him,  my  best  plan  is  to  stay  where  I am, 
if  it  be  possible.”  With  this  intent,  I proceeded  to  explore  the 
apartment,  which,  from  its  perfect  stillness,  I concluded  to  be 
unoccupied.  After  some  few  minutes’  groping,  I reached  a low 
bed,  fortunately  empty,  and  although  the  touch  of  the  bed- 
clothes led  to  no  very  favorable  augury  of  its  neatness  or  elegance, 
there  was  little  choice  at  this  moment,  so  I rolled  myself  up  in 
my  recent  booty,  and  resolved  to  wait  patiently  for  daybreak  to 
regain  my  apartment. 

As  always  happens  in  such  circumstances,  sleep  came  on 
unawares  ; so  at  least  every  one’s  experience,  I am  sure,  can 
testify,  that  if  you  are  forced  to  awake  early  to  start  by  some 
morning  coach,  and  that  unfortunately  you  have  not  got  to  bed 
till  late  at  night,  the  chances  are  ten  to  one  that  you  get  no 
sleep  whatever,  simply  because  you  are  desirous  of  it ; but 
make  up  your  mind  ever  so  resolutely  that  you’ll  not  slumber, 
and  whether  your  determination  be  built  on  motives  of  pro- 


THE  INN  A T CHANTRA INE. 


227 


priety,  duty,  convenience,  or  health,  the  chances  are  just  as 
strong  that  you  are  sound  and  snoring  before  ten  minutes. 

How  many  a man  has  found  it  impossible,  with  every  effort 
of  his  heart  and  brain  aiding  his  good  wishes,  to  sit  with  un- 
closed eyes  and  ears  through  a dull  sermon  in  the  dog-days 
how  many  an  expectant,  longing  heir  has  yielded  to  the  drowsy 
influence  when  endeavoring  to  look  contrite  under  the  severe 
correction  of  a lecture  on  extravagance  from  his  uncle.  Who 
has  not  felt  the  irresistible  tendency  to  “ drop  off  ” in  the  half 
hour  before  dinner  at  a stupid  country-house  ? I need  not  cat- 
alogue the  thousand  other  situations  in  life  infinitely  more  “ sleep- 
compelling  ” than  morphine  ; for  myself,  my  pleasantest  and 
soundest  moments  of  perfect  forgetfulness  of  this  dreary  world 
and  all  its  cares  have  been  taken  on  an  oaken  bench,  seated 
bolt  upright,  and  vis-a-vis  a lecturer  on  botany,  whose  calming 
accents,  united  with  the  softened  light  of  an  autumnal  day, 
piercing  its  difficult  rays  through  the  narrow  and  cobwebbed 
windows,  the  odor  of  the  recent  plants  and  flowers  aiding  and 
abetting,  all  combined  to  steep  the  soul  in  sleep,  and  you  sank 
by  imperceptible  and  gradual  steps  into  that  state  of  easy  slum- 
ber, in  which  “ come  no  dreams,”  and  the  last  sounds  of  the 
lecturer’s  “ hypogenous  and  perigenous  ” died  away,  becoming 
beautifully  less,  till  your  senses  sank  into  rest,  the  syllable 
“ rigging  us — rigging  us,”  seemed  to  melt  away  in  the  distance 

and  fade  from  your  memory Peace  be  with  you,  Dr.  A.  ! If 

I owe  gratitude  anywhere,  I have  my  debt  with  you.  The  very 
memory  I bear  of  you  has  saved  me  no  inconsiderable  sum  in 
hop  and  henbane.  Without  any  assistance  from  the  sciences  on 
the  present  occasion,  I was  soon  asleep,  and  woke  not  till  the 
cracking  of  whips,  and  trampling  of  horses’  feet  on  the  pave- 
ment of  the  coach-yard,  apprized  me  that  the  world  had  risen  to 
its  daily  labor,  and  that  so  ought  I.  From  the  short  survey  of  my 
present  chamber  which  I took  on  waking,  I conjectured  it  must 
have  been  the  den  of  some  of  the  servants  of  the  house  up- 
on occasion ; two  low  truckle-beds  of  the  meanest  description 
lay  along  the  wall  opposite  to  mine  ; one  of  them  appeared  to  have 
been  slept  in  during  the  past  night,  but  by  what  species  of  ani- 
mal the  Fates  alone  can  tell.  An  old  demi-peak  saddle,  capped 
and  tipped  with  brass,  some  rusty  bits,  and  stray  stirrup-irons, 
lay  here  and  there  upon  the  floor  ; while  upon  a species  of  clothes- 
rack,  attached  to  a ^ rafter,  hung  a tarnished  Suit  of  postilion’s 
livery,  cap,  jacket,  leathers,  and  jack-boots,  all  ready  for  use ; 
and  evidently  from  their  arrangement,  supposed  by  the  owner 
to  be  a rather  creditable  “ turn  out.” 

I turned  oyer  these  singular  habiliments  with  much  of  the  cu- 


328 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


riosity  with  which  an  antiquary  would  survey  a suit  of  chain  an 
mor ; the  long  epaulets  of  yellow  cotton  cord,  the  heavy  belt 
with  its  brass  buckle,  the  cumbrous  boots,  plaited  and  bound 
with  iron  like  churns,  were  in  rather  a ludicrous  contrast  to  the 
equipment  of  our  light  and  jockey-like  boys  in  nankden  jackets 
and  neat  tops,  that  spin  along  over  our  level  “ Macadam.” 

“ But,”  thought  I,  “ it  is  full  time  I should  get  back  to  No.  82, 
and  make  my  appearance  below  stairs  ; ” though  in  what  part  of 
the  building  my  room  lay,  and  how  I was  to  reach  it  without  my 
clothes,  I had  not  the  slightest  idea.  A blanket  is  an  excessively 
comfortable  article  of  wearing  apparel  when  in  bed,  but  as  a walk- 
ing costume  is  by  no  means  convenient  or  appropriate  ; while,  as 
to  making  a sortie  en  sauvage , however  appropriate  during  the 
night,  there  were  many  serious  objections  if  done  in  broad  day, 
and  with  the  whole  establishment  awake  and  active  ; the  noise 
of  mopping,  scrubbing,  and  polishing,  which  is  eternally  going 
forward  in  a foreign  inn,  amply  testified  there  was  nothing  which 
I could  adopt  in  my  present  naked  and  forlorn  condition,  save 
the  uncouth  and  ridiculous  dress  of  the  postilion,  and  I need 
not  say  the  thought  of  so  doing  presented  nothing  agreeable.  I 
looked  from  the  narrow  window  out  upon  the  tiled  roof,  but  with- 
out any  prospect  of  being  heard  if  I called  ever  so  loudly. 

The  infernal  noise  of  floor-cleansing,  assisted  by  a Norman 
peasant’s  chanson  du  pays,  the  “time  ” being  well  marked  by  her 
heavy  sabots,  gave  even  less  chance  to  me  within ; so  that  after 
more  than  half  an  hour  passed  in  weighing  difficulties  and  can- 
vassing plans,  I determined  upon  donning  “ the  blue  and  yellow*,” 
and  setting  out  for  my  own  room  without  delay,  hoping  sincerely 
that,  with  proper  precaution,  I should  be  able  to  reach  it  un- 
seen and  unobserved. 

As  I laid  but  little  stress  upon  the  figure  I should  make  in 
my  new  habiliments,  it  did  not  cause  me  much  mortification  to 
find  that  the  clothes  were  considerably  too  small,  the  jacket 
scarcely  coming  beneath  my  arms,  and  the  sleeves  being  so 
short  that  my  hands  and  wrists  projected  beyond  the  cuffs  like 
two  enormous  claws ; the  leathers  were  also  limited  in  their 
length,  and  when  drawn  up  to  a proper  height,  permitted  my 
knees  to  be  seen  beneath,  like  the  short  costume  of  a Spanish 
torreador,  but  scarcely  as  graceful ; not  wishing  to  encumber 
myself  in  the  heavy  and  noisy  masses  of  wood,  iron,  and  leather 
they  call  “ les  bottes  fortes ,”  I slipped  my  feet  into  my  slippers, 
and  stole  gently  from  the  room.  How  I must  have  looked  at 
the  moment,  I leave  my  reader  to  guess,  as  with  anxious  and 
stealthy  pace  I crept  along  the  low  gallery  that  led  to  the  nar- 
row staircase,  down  which  I proceeded*  step  by  step  ; but  just 


THE  INN  A T CHANTRAINE. 


2 29 


as  I reached  the  bottom,  perceived,  a little  distance  from  me, 
with  her  back  turned  towards  me,  a short,  squat  peasant  on  her 
knees,  belaboring  with  a brush  the  well  waxed  floor ; to  pass, 
therefore,  unobserved  was  impossible,  so  that  I did  not  hesitate 
to  address  her,  and  endeavor  to  interest  her  in  my  behalf,  and 
enlist  her  as  my  guide. 

“ Bon  jour,  ma  chere,”  said  I,  in  a soft,  insinuating  tone.  She 
did  not  hear  me,  so  I repeated,  “ Bon  jour,  ma  chere,  bon  jour.” 

Upon  this  she  turned  round,  and  looking  fixedly  at  me  for  a 
second,  called  out  in  a thick  patois,  “ Ah,  bon  Dieu,  qu’il  est 
drole  comme  qa,  Franqois ! Mais  ce  n’est  pas  Francois ! ” 
Saying  which,  she  sprang  from  her  kneeling  position  to  her  feet, 
and  with  a speed  that  her  shape  and  sabots  seemed  little  to 
promise,  rushed  down  the  stairs  as  if  she  had  seen  the  devil 
himself. 

“ Why,  what  is  the  matter  with  the  woman  ? ” said  I ; “ surely, 
if  I am  not  Franqois — which,  God  be  thanked,  is  true — yet  I 
cannot  look  so  frightful  as  all  this  would  imply.”  I had  not 
much  time  given  me  for  consideration  now,  for  before  I had  well 
deciphered  the  number  over  a door  before  me,  the  loud  noise  of 
several  voices  on  the  floor  beneath  attracted  my  attention,  and 
the  moment  after  the  heavy  tramp  of  feet  followed,  and  in  an 
instant  the  gallery  was  thronged  by  the  men  and  women  of  the 
house — waiters,  ostlers,  cooks,  scullions,  filles  de  chambre , min- 
gled with  gendarmes,  peasants,  and  townspeople — all  eagerly 
forcing  their  way  up  stairs ; yet  all,  on  arriving  at  the  landing- 
place,  seemed  disposed  to  keep  at  a respectful  distance,  and 
bundled  themselves  at  one  end  of  the  corridor,  while  I,  feeling 
alive  to  the  ridiculous  appearance  I made,  occupied  the  other. 
The  gravity  with  which  they  seemed  at  first  disposed  to  regard 
me  soon  gave  way,  and  peal  after  peal  of  laughter  broke  out, 
and  young  and  old,  men  and  women,  even  to  the  most  severe 
gendarmes,  all  appeared  incapable  of  controlling  the  desire  for 
merriment  my  most  singular  figure  inspired  ; and  unfortunately 
this  emotion  seemed  to  promise  no  very  speedy  conclusion ; for 
the  jokes  and  witticisms  made  upon  my  appearance  threatened 
to  renew  the  festivities,  ad  libitum. 

“ Regardez  done  ses  epaules,”  said  one. 

“ Ah,  mon  Diep  ! II  me  fait  l’idee  d’une  grenouille  avec  ses 
jambes  jaunes,”  cried  another. 

“ II  vaut  son  pesant  de  fromage  pour  un  vaudeville,”  said  the 
director  of  the  strolling  theatre  of  the  place.  “ I’ll  give  seventy 
francs  a week  ‘ d’appointements,’  and  Scribe  shall  write  a piece 
expressly  for  himself,  if  he’ll  take  it.” 

k<  May  the  devil  fly  away  with,  your  grinning  baboon  faces,’4' 


230 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


said  I,  as  I rushed  up  the  stairs  again,  pursued  by  the  mob  at 
full  cry.  Scarcely,  however,  had  I reached  the  top  step,  when 
the  rough  hand  of  the  gendarme  seized  me  by  the  shoulder, 
while  he  said  in  a low,  husky  voice,  “ C’est  inutile,  monsieur, 
you  cannot  escape — the  thing  was  well  contrived,  it  is  true ; but 
the  gendarmes  of  France  are  not  easily  outwitted,  and  you  could 
not  have  long  avoided  detection,  even  in  that  dress.”  It  was 
my  turn  to  laugh  now ; which,  to  their  very  great  amazement,  I 
did,  loud  and  long ; that  I should  have  thought  my  present  cos- 
tume could  ever  have  been  the  means  of  screening  me  from  ob- 
servation, however  it  might  have  been  calculated  to  attract  it, 
was  rather  too  absurd  a supposition  even  for  the  mayor  of  a vil- 
lage to  entertain  ; besides,  it  only  now  occurred  to  me  that  I 
was  figuring  in  the  character  of  a prisoner.  The  continued 
peals  of  laughter  which  this  mistake  on  their  part  elicited  from 
me  seemed  to  afford  but  slight  pleasure  to  my  captor,  who 
gruffly  said, 

“ When  you  have  done  amusing  yourself,  mon  ami,  perhaps 
you  will  do  us  the  favor  to  come  before  the  mayor.” 

“ Certainly,”  I replied  , “ but  you  will  first  permit  me  to  re- 
sume my  own  clothes  ; I am  quite  sick  of  masquerading  ‘ en 
postilion .’  ” 

“ Not  so  fast,  my  friend,”  said  the  suspicious  old  follower  of 
Fouche — “ not  so  fast ; it  is  but  right  the  maire  should  see  you 
in  the  disguise  you  attempted  your  escape  in.  It  must  be  es- 
pecially mentioned  in  the  proces  verbal 

“ Well,  this  is  becoming  too  ludicrous,”  said  I.  “ It  need  not 
take  five  minutes  to  satisfy  you  why,  how,  and  where,  I put  on 

these  confounded  rags ” 

“ Then  tell  it  to  the  maire , at  the  bureau.” 

“ But  for  that  purpose  it  is  not  necessary  I should  be  conducted 
through  the  streets  in  broad  day,  to  be  laughed  at.  No,  posi- 
tively, I’ll  not  go.  In  my  own  dress  I’ll  accompany  you  with 
pleasure.” 

“ Victor,  Henri,  Guillaume,”  said  the  gendarme,  addressing 
his  companions,  who  immediately  closed  round  me.  “ You 
see,”  added  he,  “ there  is  no  use  in  resisting.” 

Need  I recount  my  own  shame  and  ineffable  disgrace  ? Alas  ! 
it  is  too,  too  true.  Harry  Lorrequer — whom  Stultz  entreated  to 
wear  his  coats,  the  ornament  of  Hyde  Park,  the  last  appeal  in 
dress,  fashion,  and  equipage — was  obliged  to  parade  through 
the  mob  of  a market-town  in  France,  with  four  gendarmes  for 
his  companions,  and  he  himself  habited  in  a mongrel  character 
half  postilion,  half  Delaware  Indian.  The  incessant  yells  of 
laughter — the  screams  of  the  children,  and  the  outpouring  of 


THE  INN  A T CHANTRAINE . 


231 


every  species  of  sarcasm  and  ridicule,  at  my  expense,  were  not 
all, — for,  as  I emerged  from  the  inn  door,  1 saw  Isabella  in  the 
window  : her  eyes  were  red  with  weeping  ; but  no  sooner  had  she 
beheld  me,  tha*n  she  broke  out  into  a fit  of  laughter  that  was 
audible  even  in  the  street. 

Rage  had  now  taken  such  a hold  upon  me,  that  I forgot  my 
ridiculous  appearance  in  my  thirst  for  vengeance.  I marched 
on  through  the  grinning  crowd  with  the  step  of  a martyr.  I 
suppose  my  heroic  bearing  and  warlike  deportment  must  have 
heightened  the  drollery  of  the  scene  ; for  the  devils  only  laughed 
the  more.  The  bureau  of  the  maire  could  not  contain  one-tenth 
of  the  anxious  and  curious  individuals  who  thronged  the  en- 
trance, and  for  about  twenty  minutes  the  whole  efforts  of  the 
gendarmes  were  little  enough  to  keep  order  and  maintain  si- 
lence. At  length  the  maire  made  his  appearance,  and  accustomed 
as  he  had  been  for  a long  life  to  scenes  of  an  absurd  and  extraor- 
dinary nature,  yet  the  ridicule  of  my  look  and  costume  was 
too  much,  and  he  laughed  outright.  This  was  of  course  the 
signal  for  renewed  mirth  from  the  crowd,  while  those  without 
doors,  infected  by  the  example,  took  up  the  jest,  and  I had  the 
pleasure  of  a short  calculation,  a ia  Babbage , of  how  many  max- 
illary jaws  were  at  that  same  moment  wagging  at  my  expense. 

However,  the  examination  commenced  ; and  I at  length  ob- 
tained an  opportunity  of  explaining  under  what  circumstances  I 
had  left  my  room,  and  how  and  why  I had  been  induced  to  don 
this  confounded  cause  of  all  my  misery. 

“ This  may  be  very  true,”  said  the  mayor,  “ as  it  is  very  plaus- 
ible, if  you  have  evidence  to  prove  what  you  have  stated ” 

“ If  it’s  evidence  only  is  wanting,  Mr.  Maire,  I’ll  confirm  one 
part  of  the  story,”  said  a voice  in  the  crowd,  in  an  accent  and 
tone  that  assured  me  the  speaker  was  the  injured  proprietor  of 
the  stolen  blankets.  I turned  round  hastily  to  look  at  my  vie 
tim,  and  what  was  my  surprise  to  recognize  a very  old  Dublin 
acquaintance,  Mr.  Arthur  O’Leary. 

“ Good-morning,  Mr.  Lorrequer,”  said  he  ; “ this  is  mighty 
like  our  old  practices  in  College  Green  ; but  upon  my  con- 
science the  maire  has  the  advantage  of  Gabbet.  It’s  lucky  for 
you  I know  his  worship,  as  we’d  call  him  at  home,  or  this  might 
be  a serious  business.  Nothing  would  persuade  them  that  you 
were  not  Lucien  Bonaparte,  or  the  Iron  Mask,  or  something  of 
that  sort,  if  they  took  it  into  their  heads.” 

Mr.  O’Leary  was  as  good  as  his  word.  In  a species  of  French, 
that  I’d  venture  to  say  would  be  perfectly  intelligible  in  Mullin- 
gar, he  contrived  to  explain  to  the  maire  that  I was  neither  a 
runaway  nor  a swindler,  but  a very  old  friend  of  his,  and  conse* 


232 


HARRY  LORREQCJER. 


quently  most  respectable.  The  official  was  now  as  profuse  of 
his  civilities  as  he  had  before  been  of  his  suspicions,  and  most 
hospitably  pressed  us  to  stay  for  breakfast.  This,  for  many 
reasons,  I was  obliged  to  decline — not  the  least  of  which  was, 
my  impatience  to  get  out  of  my  present  costume.  We  accord 
ingly  procured  a carriage,  and  I returned  to  the  hotel,  screened 
from  the  gaze  but  still  accompanied  by  the  shouts  of  the  mob, 
who  evidently  took  a most  lively  interest  in  the  entire  proceed- 
ing. 

I lost  no  time  in  changing  my  costume,  and  was  about  to  de- 
scend to  the  saloon,  when  the  master  of  the  house  came  to  in- 
form me  that  Mrs.  Bingham’s  courier  had  arrived  with  the  car- 
riage, and  that  she  expected  us  at  Amiens  as  soon  as  possible. 

“ That  is  all  right.  Now,  Mr.  O’Leary,  I must  pray  you  to 
forgive  the  liberty  I have  taken  with  you,  and  also  permit  me 
to  defer  the  explanation  of  many  circumstances  which  seem  at 
present  strange,  till ” 

44  Till  sine  die,  if  the  story  be  a long  one,  my  dear  sir.  There’s 
nothing  I hate  so  much,  except  cold  punch.” 

44  You  are  going  to  Paris,”  said  I ; 44  is  it  not  so  ? ” 

44  Yes,  I’m  thinking  of  it.  1 was  up  at  Trolhatten,  in  Norway, 
three  weeks  ago,  and  I was  obliged  to  leave  it  hastily,  for  I’ve 
an  appointment  with  a friend  in  Geneva.” 

44  Then  how  do  you  travel  ? ” 

44  On  foot,  just  as  you  see,  except  that  I have  a tobacco-bag 
up  stairs,  and  an  umbrella.” 

44  Light  equipment,  certainly ; but  you  must  allow  me  to  give 
you  a set  down  as  far  as  Amiens,  and  also  to  present  you  to  my 
friends  there.” 

To  this  Mr.  O’Leary  made  no  objection  ; and  as  Miss  Bingham 
could  not  bear  any  delay,  in  her  anxiety  to  join  her  mother,  we 
set  out  at  once — the  only  thing  to  mar  my  full  enjoyment  at 
the  moment  being  the  sight  of  the  identical  vestments  I had 
so  lately  figured  in,  bobbing  up  and  down  before  my  eyes  for  the 
whole  length  of  the  stage,  and  leading  to  innumerable  mischiev- 
ous allusions  from  my  friend  Mr.  O’Leary,  which  were  far  too 
much  relished  by  my  fair  companion. 

At  twelve  we  arrived  at  Amiens,  when  I presented  my  friend 
Mr.  O’Leary  to  Mrs.  Bingham. 


MR.  O'LEARY. 


233 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

MR.  O’LEARY. 

At  the  conclusion  of  my  last  chapter  I was  about  to  introduce 
to  my  reader’s  acquaintance  my  friend  Mr.  O’Leary  ; and,  as  he 
is  destined  to  occupy  some  place  in  the  history  of  these  Confes- 
sions, I may,  perhaps,  be  permitted  to  do  so  at  more  length  than 
his  intrinsic  merit  at  first  sight  might  appear  to  warrant. 

Mr.  O’Leary  was,  and  I am  induced  to  believe  is,  a partic- 
ularly short,  fat,  greasy-looking  gentleman,  with  a head  as  free 
from  phrenological  development  as  a billiard-ball,  and  a coun- 
tenance which,  in  feature  and  color,  nearly  resembled  the  face 
of  a cherub,  carved  in  oak,  as  we  see  them  in  old  pulpits. 

Short  as  is  his  stature,  his  limbs  compose  the  least  part  of  it. 
His  hands  and  feet,  forming  some  compensation  by  their  ample 
proportions,  give  to  his  entire  air  and  appearance  somewhat  the 
look  of  a small  fish,  with  short,  thick  fins,  vulgarly  called  a cob- 
ler’s  thumb.  His  voice,  varying  in  cadence  from  a deep  bary- 
tone to  a high  falsetto,  maintains  throughout  the  distinctive 
characteristic  of  a Dublin  accent  and  pronunciation,  and  he 
talks  of  the  “ Veel  of  Ovoca,  and  a beei-steek”  with  some  pride 
of  intonation.  What  part  of  the  Island  he  came  originally  from, 
or  what  may  be  his  age,  are  questions  I have  the  most  pro- 
found ignorance  of  ; I have  \eard  many  anecdotes  which  would 
imply  his  being  what  the  French  call  “ (Tun  age  ?nur  ” — but  his 
own  observations  are  generally  limited  to  events  occurring  since 
the  peace  of  “ fifteen.”  To  his  personal  attractions,  such  as 
they  are,  he  has  never  been  solicitous  of  contributing  by  the 
meretricious  aids  of  dress.  His  coat,  calculating  from  its  length 
of  waist  and  ample  skirt,  would  fit  Bumbo  Green,  while  his 
trousers,  being  made  of  some  cheap  and  shrinking  material,  have 
gradually  contracted  their  limits,  and  look  now  exactly  like  knee- 
breeches,  without  the  usual  buttons  at  the  bottom. 

These,  with  the  addition  of  a pair  of  green  spectacles,  the 
glass  of  one  being  absent,  and  permitting  the  loox-out  of  a 
sharp,  gray  eye,  twinkling  with  drollery  and  good  humor,  form 
the  most  palpable  of  his  externals.  In  point  of  character,  they 
who  best  knew  him  represented  him  as  the  best-tempered,  best- 
hearted  fellow  breathing ; ever  ready  to  assist  a friend,  and 
always  postponing  his  own  plans  and  his  own  views,  when  he 
had  any,  to  the  wishes  and  intentions  of  others.  Among  the 
many  odd  things  about  him  was  a constant  preference  to  travel- 
ling on  foot,  and  a great  passion  for  living  abroad,  both  of  which 


234 


HARRY  LORRE  QUER, . 


tastes  he  gratified,  although  his  size  might  seem  to  offer  obsU 
cles  to  the  one,  and  his  total  ignorace  of  every  continental 
language  would  appear  to  preclude  the  other ; with  a great  lik- 
ing for  tobacco,  which  he  smoked  all  day — a fondness  for  whist 
and  malt  liquors — his  antipathies  were  few ; so  that,  except  when 
called  upon  to  shave  more  than  once  in  the  week,  or  wash  his 
hands  twice  on  the  same  day,  it  was  difficult  to  disconcert  him. 
His  fortune  was  very  ample ; but  although  his  mode  of  living 
was  neither  very  ostentatious  nor  costly,  he  contrived  always  to 
spend  his  income.  Such  was  the  gentleman  I now  presented 
to  my  friends,  who,  I must  confess,  appeared  strangely  puzzled 
by  his  manner  and  appearance.  This  feeling,  however,  soon 
wore  off ; and  before  he  had  spent  the  morning  in  their  company, 
he  had  made  more  way  in  their  good  graces,  and  gone  farther 
to  establish  intimacy,  than  many  a more  accomplished  person, 
with  an  unexceptionable  coat  and  accurate  whisker,  might  have 
effected  in  a fortnight.  What  were  his  gifts  in  this  way,  I am, 
alas  ! most  deplorably  ignorant  of ; it  was  not,  Heaven  knows, 
that  he  possessed  any  conversational  talent — of  successful  flat- 
tery he  knew  as  much  as  a negro  does  of  the  national  debt— 
and  yet  the  bonhomie  of  his  character  seemed  to  tell  at  once ; 
and  I never  knew  him  fail  in  any  one  instance  to  establish  an 
interest  for  himself  before  he  had  completed  the  ordinary  period 
of  a visit. 

I think  it  is  Washington  Irving  who  has  so  admirably  depicted 
the  mortification  of  a dandy  angler,  who,  with  his  beaver  gar- 
nished with  brown  hackles,  his  well-poised  rod,  polished  gaff, 
and  handsome  landing-net,  with  everything  befitting,  spends  his 
long  summer  day  whipping  a trout  stream  without  a rise  or  even 
a ripple  to  reward  him,  while  a ragged  urchin,  with  a willow 
wand  and  a bent  pin,  not  ten  yards  distant,  is  covering  the 
greensward  with  myriads  of  speckled  and  scaly  backs,  from  one 
pound  weight  to  four;  so  it  is  in  everything — “ the  race  is  not 
to  the  swift ; ” the  elements  of  success  in  life,  whatever  be  the 
object  of  pursuit,  are  very,  very  different  from  what  we  think  of 
them  at  first  sight,  and  so  it  was  with  Mr.  O’Leary,  and  I have 
more  than  once  witnessed  the  triumph  of  his  homely  manner 
and  blunt  humor  over  the  more  polished  and  well-bred  taste  of 
his  competitors  for  favor ; and  what  might  have  been  the  limit 
to  such  success  Heaven  can  only  tell,  if  it  were  not  that  he 
labored  under  a counterbalancing  infirmity,  sufficient  to  have 
swamped  a line-of-battle  ship  itself.  It  was  simply  this — a most 
unfortunate  propensity  to  talk  of  the  wrong  place,  person,  or 
time,  in  any  society  he  found  himself  ; and  this  taste  for  the 
mal  a propos  extended  so  far  that  no  one  ever  ventured  into 


MR.  O'LEARY. 


*35 


company  with  him  as  his  friend  without  trembling  for  the  result; 
but  even  this,  I believe  his  only  fault,  resulted  from  the  nat- 
ural goodness  of  his  character  and  intentions  ; for,  believing,  as 
he  did,  in  his  honest  simplicity,  that  the  arbitrary  distinction  of 
class  and  rank  were  held  as  cheaply  by  others  as  himself,  he 
felt  small  scruple  at  recounting  to  a duchess  a scene  in  a cabaret, 
and  with  as  little  hesitation  would  he,  if  asked,  have  sung  the 
“ Cruiskeen  Lawn  ” or  the  “ Jug  of  Punch,5’  after  Lablache  had 
finished  the  “ A1  Idea,55  from  Figaro.  Mauvaise  honte , he  had 
none  : indeed,  I am  not  sure  that  he  had  any  kind  of  shame 
whatever,  except  possibly,  when  detected  with  a coat  that  bore 
any  appearance  of  newness,  or  if  overpersuaded  to  wear  gloves, 
which  he  ever  considered  as  a special  effeminacy. 

Such  was  he,  and  how  far  he  insinuated  himself  into  their 
good  graces,  let  the  fact  tell,  that  on  my  return  to  the  breakfast- 
room,  after  about  an  hour’s  absence,  I heard  him  detailing  the 
particulars  of  a route  they  were  to  take  by  his  advice,  and  also 
learned  that  he  had  been  offered,  and  had  accepted,  a seat  in 
their  carriage  to  Paris. 

“Then  I’ll  do  myself  the  pleasure  of  joining  your  party,  Mrs. 
Bingham,”  said  he.  “ Bingham,  I think,  madam,  is  your  name  ? 55 

“ Yes,  sir.” 

“ Any  relation,  may  I ask,  of  a most  dear  friend  of  mine,  of 
the  same  name,  from  Currynaslattery,.in  the  county  of  Wexford  ? 55 

“ I am  really  not  aware,”  said  Mrs.  Bingham.  “ My  husband’s 
family  are,  I believe,  many  of  them  from  that  county.” 

“Ah,  what  a pleasant  fellow  was  Tom  ! ” said  Mr.  O’Leary, 
musingly,  and  with  that  peculiar  tone  which  made  me  tremble, 
for  I knew  well  that  a reminiscence  was  coming.  “A  pleasant 
fellow,  indeed.” 

“ Is  he  alive,  sir,  now?  ” 

“ I believe  so,  ma’am ; but  I hear  the  climate  does  not  agree 
with  him.” 

“ Ah,  then,  he’s  abroad.  In  Italy,  probably  ? ” 

“ No,  ma’am,  in  Botany  Bay.  His  brother,  they  say,  might 
have  saved  him,  but  he  left  poor  Tom  to  his  fate  ; for  he  was 
just  then  paying  his  court  to  a Miss  Crow,  I think,  with  a large 
fortune.  Oh,  Lord  ! what  have  I said  ! — it’s  always  the  luck  of 
me  ! ” The  latter  exclamation  was  the  result  of  a heavy  plump 
upon  the  floor,  Mrs.  Bingham  having  fallen  in  a faint — she  be- 
ing the  identical  lady  alluded  to,  and  her  husband  the  brother  of 
pleasant  Tom  Bingham. 

To  hurl  Mr.  O’Leary  out  of  the  room  by  one  hand,  and  ring 
the  bell  with  the  other,  was  the  work  of  a moment ; and,  with 
proper  care,  and  in  due  time,  Mrs.  Bingham  was  brought  to  her- 


236 


BARRY  LORREQUER . 


self,  when,  most  fortunately,  she  entirely  forgot  the  cause  of 
her  sudden  indisposition,  and,  of  course,  neither  her  daughter 
nor  myself  suffered  any  clue  to  escape  us  which  might  lead  to 
its  discovery. 

When  we  were  once  more  upon  the  road,  to  efface,  if  it  might 
be  necessary,  any  unpleasant  recurrence  to  the  late  scene,  I pro- 
ceeded to  give  Mrs.  Bingham  an  account  of  my  adventure  at 
Chantraine,  in  which,  of  course,  I endeavored  to  render  my 
friend  O’Leary  all  the  honors  of  being  laughed  at  in  preference 
to  myself,  laying  little  stress  upon  my  masquerading  in  the  jack- 
boots. 

“You  are  quite  right,”  said  O’Leary,  joining  in  the  hearty 
laugh  against  him,  “ quite  right,  I was  always  a very  heavy 
sleeper — indeed,  if  I wasn’t  I wouldn’t  be  here  now,  travelling 
about  en  garfon , free  as  air ; ” and  here  he  heaved  a sigh,  which, 
from  its  incongruity  with  his  jovial  look  and  happy  expression, 
threw  us  all  into  renewed  laughter. 

“But  why,  Mr.  O’Leary — what  can  your  sleepiness  have  to 
do  with  such  tender  recollections,  for  such,  I am  sure,  that  sigh 
bespeaks  them  ? ” 

“ Ah  ! ma’am,  it  may  seem  strange,  but  it  is,  nevertheless,  true, 
if  it  were  not  for  that  unfortunate  tendency,  I should  now  be 
the  happy  possessor  of  a most  accomplished  and  amiable  lady, 
and  eight  hundred  per  annum  three-and-a-half  per  cent,  stock.” 

“ You  overslept  yourself  on  the  wedding-day,  I suppose  ? ” 

“ You  shall  hear,  ma’am  ; the  story  is  but  a short  one  : It  is 
now  about  eight  years  ago,  I was  rambling  through  the  south  of 
France,  and  had  just  reached  Lyons,  where  the  confounded 
pavement,  that  sticks  up  like  pears  with  the  points  upwards,  had 
compelled  me  to  rest  some  days  and  recruit ; for  this  purpose  I 
installed  myself  in  the  pension  of  Madame  Gourgeaud,  Rue  des 
Petits  Carmes — a quiet  house,  where  we  dined  at  twelve,  ten  in 
number,  upon  about  two  pounds  of  stewed  beef,  with  garlic  and 
carrots,  a light  soup — being  the  water  which  accompanied  the 
same  to  render  it  tender  in  stewing — some  preserved  cherries, 
and  an  omelette,  with  a pint  bottle  of  Beaune — 6 me  quality  I be* 
lieve — a species  of  pyroligneous  wine,  made  from  the  vine-stalks, 
but  pleasant  in  summer  with  your  salad  ; then,  we  played  domi- 
noes in  the  evening,  or  whist  for  sou  points,  leading  altogether 
a very  quiet  and  virtuous  existence,  or,  as  Madame  herself  ex- 
pressed it 4 une  vie  tout-a-fait patriarchale ; ’ of  this  I cannot  myself 
affirm  how  far  she  was  right  in  supposing  the  patriarchs  did  ex- 
actly like  us.  But  to  proceed  : in  the  same  establishment  there 
lived  a widow,  an  Englishwoman,  whose  late  husband  had  been 
a wine  merchant  at  Dijon ; he  had  also,  I suppose  from  residing 


MR.  O'LEARY. 


237 


in  that  country,  been  imitating  the  patriarchs,  for  he  died  one 
day.  Well,  the  lady  was  delayed  at  Lyons  for  some  law  busi- 
ness, and  thus  it  came  about  that  her  husband’s  testament  and 
the  sharp  paving-stones  in  the  streets  determined  that  we  should 
be  acquainted.  I cannot  express  to  you  the  delight  of  my  fair 
countrywoman  at  finding  that  a person  who  spoke  English  had 
arrived  at  the  pension , a feeling  I myself  somewhat  participated 
in  ; for,  to  say  truth,  I was  not  at  that  time  a very  great  proficient 
in  French.  We  soon  became  intimate,  in  less  time,  probably, 
that  it  could  otherwise  have  happened ; for,  from  the  ignorance 
of  all  the  others  of  one  word  of  English,  I was  enabled,  during 
dinner,  to  say  many  soft  and  tender  things,  which  one  does 
not  usually  venture  on  in  company. 

“ I recounted  my  travels,  and  told  various  adventures  of  my 
wanderings,  till  at  last,  from  being  merely  amused,  I found  that 
my  fair  friend  began  to  be  interested  in  my  narratives ; and 
frequently,  when  passing  the  bouillon  to  her,  I have  seen  a tear 
in  the  corner  of  her  eye  : in  a word,  ‘ she  loved  me  for  the  dan- 
gers I had  passed,’  as  Othello  says.  Well,  laugh  away  if  you 
like,  but  it’s  truth  I am  telling  you.”  At  this  part  of  Mr. 
O’Leary’s  story  we  all  found  it  impossible  to  withstand  the  lu- 
dicrous mock-heroic  of  his  face  and  tone,  and  laughed  loud  and 
long.  When  we  at  length  became  silent  he  resumed  : “ Before 
three  weeks  had  passed  over,  I had  proposed  and  was  accepted, 
just  your  own  way,  Mr.  Lorrequer,  taking  the  ball  at  the  hop, 
the  very  same  way  you  did  at  Cheltenham,  the  time  the  lady 
jilted  you,  and  ran  off  with  your  friend  Mr.  Waller;  I read 
it  all  in  the  news,  though  I was. then  in  Norway,  fishing.”  Here 
there  was  another  interruption  by  a laugh,  not,  however,  at  Mr. 
O’Leary’s  expense.  I gave  him  a most  menacing  look,  while  he 
continued  : “ The  settlements  were  soon  drawn  up,  and  consisted, 
like  all  great  diplomatic  documents,  of  a series  of  ‘ gains  and 
compensations  ; ’ thus,  she  was  not  to  taste  anything  stronger 
than  kirschwasse,  orNantz  brandy:  and  I limited  myself  to  a 
pound  of  short-cut  weekly,  and  so  on.  But  to  proceed : the 
lady  being  a good  Catholic,  insisted  upon  being  married  by  a 
priest  of  her  own  persuasion,  before  the  performance  of  the 
ceremony  at  the  British  embassy  in  Paris  ; to  this  I could  offer 
no  objection,  and  we  were  accordingly  united  in  the  holy  bonds 
the  same  morning,  after  signing  the  law  papers.” 

“ Then,  Mr.  O’Leary,  you  are  really  a married  man.” 

“ That’s  the  very  point  I’m  coming  to,  ma’am  ; for  I’ve  con- 
sulted all  the  jurists  upon  the  subject,  and  they  never  can 
a^ree.  But  you  shall  hear.  I despatched  a polite  note  to 
Bishop  Luscombe,  and  made  every  arrangement  for  the  ap- 


23$ 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


proaching  ceremony,  took  a quarter  in  the  Rue  du  Helder, 
near  the  Estaminet,  and  looked  forward  with  anxiety  for  the 
day  which  was  to  make  me  happy,  for  our  marriage  in  Lyons 
was  only  a kind  of  betrothal.  Now,  my  fair  friend  had  but  one 
difficulty  remaining,  poor  dear  soul — I refrain  from  mentioning 
her  name  for  delicacy  sake — but  poor  dear  Mrs.  Ram  could  not 
bear  the  notion  of  our  going  up  to  Paris  in  the  same  convey- 
ance, for  long  as  she  had  lived  abroad,  she  had  avoided  every- 
thing French,  even  the  language  ; so  she  proposed  that  I should 
go  in  the  early  diligence , which  starts  at  four  o’clock  in  the 
morning,  while  she  took  her  departure  at  nine  ; thus  I should 
be  some  hours  sooner  in  Paris,  and  ready  to  receive  her  on  her 
arriving ; besides  sparing  her  bashfulness  all  reproach  of  our 
travelling  together.  It  was  no  use  my  telling  her  that  I always 
travelled  on  foot,  and  hated  a dilige?ice  ; she  coolly  replied  that 
at  our  time  of  life,  we  could  not  spare  the  time  necessary  for  a 
pilgrimage  to  Jerusalem,  for  so  she  supposed  the  journey  from 
Lyons  to  Paris  to  be  ; so  fearing  lest  any  doubt  might  be  thrown 
upon  the  ardor  of  my  attachment,  I yielded  at  once,  remember- 
ing at  the  moment  what  my  poor  friend  Tom  Bing Oh, 

Lord,  I’m  at  it  again  ! ” 

“ Sir,  I did  not  hear.” 

“ Nothing,  ma’am  ; I was  just  going  to  observe,  that  ladies 
of  a certain  time  of  life,  and  widows  especially,  like  a lover  that 
seems  a little  ardent  or  so,  all  the  better.”  Here  Mrs.  Bing- 
ham blushed,  her  daughter  bridled,  and  I nearly  suffocated  with 
shame  and  suppressed  laughter. 

“ After  a most  tender  farewell  of  my  bride,  or  wife,  I don’t 
know  which,  I retired  for  the  night  with  a mind  vacillating  be- 
tween my  hopes  of  happiness  and  my  fears  for  the  result  of  a 
journey  so  foreign  to  all  my  habits  of  travelling,  and  in  which 
I could  not  but  tremble  at  the  many  casualties  my  habitual  lazi- 
ness and  dislike  to  any  hours  but  my  own  choosing  might  in- 
volve me  in. 

“ I had  scarcely  laid  down  in  bed,  ere  these  thoughts  took 
such  possession  of  me,  that  sleep  for  once  in  my  life  was  out  of 
the  question  ; and  then  the  misery  of  getting  up  at  four  in  the 
morning,  putting  on  your  clothes  by  the  flickering  light  of  the 
porter’s  candle,  getting  your  boots  on  the  wrong  feet,  and  all 
that  kind  of  annoyance,  I am  sure  I fretted  myself  into  the  feel- 
ing of  a downright  martyr  before  an  hour  was  over.  4 Well,  at 
least,’  thought  I,  4 one  thing  is  well  done  : I have  been  quite 
right  in  coming  to  sleep  at  the  Messageries  Hotel,  where  the 
diligence  starts  from,  or  the  chances  are  ten  to  one  that  I-nevei 
should  wake  till  the  time  was  past.  Now,  however,  they  are 


MR.  O'LEARY. 


239 


sure  to  call  me  ; so  I may  sleep  tranquilly  till  then/  Mean- 
while I had  forgotten  to  pack  my  trunk  ; and  my  papers,  etc.,  was 
laying  all  about  the  room  in  a state  of  considerable  confusion. 
I rose  at  once  with  all  the  despatch  I could  muster  ; this  took  a 
long  time  to  effect,  and  it  was  nearly  two  o’clock  ere  1 finished, 
and  sat  down  to  smoke  a solitary  pipe,  the  last,  as  I supposed, 
it  might  be  my  lot  to  enjoy  for  Heaven  knows  how  long,  Mrs. 
R.  having  expressed,  rather  late  in  our  intimacy,  I confess, 
strong  opinions  against  tobacco  within  doors. 

“When  I had  finished  my  little  sac  of  the  ‘weed,’  the  clock 
struck  three,  and  I started  to  think  how  little  time  I was  des- 
tined to  have  in  bed.  In  bed!  4 Why/  said  I,  ‘there  is  no 
use  thinking  of  it  now,  for  I shall  scarcely  have  lain  down  ere  I 
shall  be  obliged  to  get  up  again.’  So  thinking,  I set  about 
dressing  myself  for  the  road,  and  as  the  season  was  winter  and 
the  weather  dreadfully  severe,  took  care  to  array  myself  in  all 
the  covering  I could  lay  hands  upon  ; and  by  the  time  I had 
enveloped  myself  in  a pair  of  long  Hungarian  gaiters,  and  a 
kurtcha  of  sheep’s  wool,  with  a brown  bearskin  outside,  with  a 
Welsh  wig,  and  a pair  of  large  dark  glass  goggles  to  defend  the 
eyes  from  the  snow,  I was  not  only  perfectly  impervious  to  all 
effects  of  the  weather,  but  so  thoroughly  defended  from  any 
influence  of  sight  or  sound,  that  a volcano  might  be  hissing  and 
thundering  within  ten  yards  of  me,  without  attracting  my  slight- 
est attention.  Now,  I thought,  instead  of  remaining  here  I’ll 
just  step  down  to  the  coach,  and  get  snugly  into  the  diligence, 
and  having  secured  the  corner  of  the  coupe,  resign  myself  to 
sleep  with  the  certainty  of  not  being  left  behind,  and  probably, 
too,  be  some  miles  on  my  journey  before  awaking. 

44  I accordingly  went  down  stairs,  and  to  my  surprise  found, 
even  at  that  early  hour,  that  many  of  the  garfons  of  the  house 
were  stirring  and  bustling  about,  getting  all  the  luggage  up  in 
the  huge  wooden  leviathan  that  was  to  convey  us  on  our  road. 
There  they  stood,  like  bees  around  a hive,  clustering  and  buz- 
zing, and  all  so  engaged,  that  with  difficulty  could  I get  an  an- 
swer to  my  question  of  what  diligence  it  was.  4 La  diligence 
pour  Paris,  Monsieur.’ 

44  4 Ah,  all  right,  then,’  said  I ; so,  watching  an  opportunity  to 
do  so  unobserved,  for  I supposed  they  might  have  laughed  at 
me,  I stepped  quietly  into  the  coupe , and  amid  the  creaking  of 
cordage  and  the  thumping  of  feet  on  the  roof,  fell  as  sound 
asleep  as  ever  l did  in  my  life,  these  sounds  coming  to  my 
muffled  ears  soft  as  the  echoes  on  the  Rhine.  When  it  was 
that  I awoke  I cannot  say  ; but  as  I rubbed  my  eyes  and  yawned 
after  a most  refreshing  sleep,  I perceived  that  it  was  still  quite 


240 


HARR  Y L ORREQUER. 


dark  all  around,  and  that  the  diligence  was  standing  before  the 
door  of  some  inn,  and  not  moving.  ‘Ah/  thought  I,  4 this  is  the 
first  stage  ; how  naturally  one  always  wakes  at  the  change  of 
horses,  a kind  of  instinct  implanted  by  Providence,  I suppose, 
to  direct  us  to  a little  refreshment  on  the  road.’  With  these 
pious  feelings  I let  down  the  glass,  and  called  out  to  the  garf on 
for  a glass  of  brandy  and  a cigar.  While  he  was  bringing  them, 
I had  time  to  look  about,  and  perceived,  to  my  very  great 
delight,  that  I had  the  whole  coupe  to  myself.  4 Are  there  any 
passengers  coming  in  here  ? ’ said  I,  as  the  waiter  came  forward 
with  my  liquor.  4 1 should  think  not,  sir/  said  the  fellow  with  a 
leer.  4 Then  I shall  have  the  whole  coupe  to  myself?’  said  I. 
4 Monsieur  need  have  no  fear  of  being  disturbed  ; I can  safely 
assure  him  that  he  will  have  no  one  there  for  the  next  twenty- 
four  hours.’  This  was  really  pleasant  intelligence  ; so  I chucked 
him  a ten-sou  piece,  and  closing  up  the  window  as  the  morning 
was  cold,  once  more  lay  back  to  sleep  with  a success  that  has 
never  failed  me.  It  was  to  a bright  blue  cloudless  sky,  and 
the  sharp  clear  air  of  a fine  day  in  winter,  that  I at  length 
opened  my  eyes.  I pulled  out  my  watch,  and  discovered  it  was 
exactly  two  o’clock  ; I next  lowered  the  glass  and  looked  about 
me,  and  very  much  to  my  surprise  discovered  that  the  diligence 
was  not  moving,  but  standing  very  peaceably  in  a very  crowded 
congregation  of  other  similar  and  dissimilar  conveyances,  all  of 
which  seemed,  I thought,  to  labor  under  some  physical  ailment, 
some  wanting  a box,  others  a body,  etc.,  etc.,  and,  in  fact,  sug- 
gesting the  idea  of  an  infirmary  for  old  and  disabled  carriages 
of  either  sex,  mails  and  others.  4 Oh,  I have  it,’  cried  I,  4 we 
are  arrived  at  Mont-Geran,  and  they  are  all  at  dinner,  and 
from  my  being  alone  in  the  coupe,  they  have  forgotten  to  call 
me.’  I immediately  opened  the  door  and  stepped  out  into  the 
inn-yard,  crowded  'with  conducteurs , grooms,  and  ostlers,  who,  I 
thought,  looked  rather  surprised  at  seeing  me  emerge  from  the 
diligence. 

44  4 You  did  not  know  I was  there?’  said  I,  with  a knowing 
wink  at  one  of  them  as  I passed. 

44  4 Assurement  non ,’  said  the  fellow  with  a laugh,  that  was  the 
signal  for  all  the  others  ro  join  in  it.  4 Is  the  table  d^khte  over  ? ’ 
said  I,  regardless  of  the  mirth  around  me.  4 Monsieur  is  just  in 
time,’  said  the  waiter,  who  happened  to  pass  with  a soup-tureen 
in  his  hand.  4 Have  the  goodness  to  step  this  way.’  I had 
barely  time  to  remark  the  close  resemblance  of  the  waiter  to 
the  fellow  who  presented  me  with  my  brandy  and  cigar  in  the 
morning,  when  he  ushered  me  into  a large  room,  with  about 
forty  persons  sitting  at  a long  table,  evidently  waiting  with  im- 


MR.  O'LEARY. 


241 


patience  for  the  potage  to  begin  their  dinner.  Whether  it  was 
they  enjoyed  the  joke  of  having  neglected  to  call  me,  or  that 
they  were  laughing  at  my  travelling  costume,  I cannot  say,  but 
the  moment  I came  in,  I could  perceive  a general  titter  run 
through  the  assembly.  4 Not  too  late,  after  all,  gentlemen/ 
said  I,  marching  gravely  up  to  the  table. 

“ 4 Monsieur  is  in  excellent  time/  said  the  host,  making  room 
for  me  beside  his  chair.  Notwithstanding  the  incumbrance  of 
my  weighty  habiliments,  I proceeded  to  do  ample  justice  to  the 
viands  before  me,  apologizing  laughingly  to  the  host,  by  pleading 
a traveller’s  appetite. 

“ 4 Then  you  have,  perhaps,  come  far  this  morning/  said  s, 
gentleman  opposite. 

44  4 Yes/  said  I,  4 1 have  been  on  the  road  since  four  o’clock/ 

44  4 And  how  are  the  roads  ? ’ said  another.  4 Very  bad/  said 
I,  4 the  first  few  stages  from  Lyons,  afterwards  much  better.’ 
This  was  said  at  a venture,  as  I began  to  be  ashamed  of  being 
always  asleep  before  my  fellow-travellers.  They  did  not  seem, 
however,  to  understand  me  perfectly ; and  one  old  fellow,  put- 
ting down  his  spectacles  from  his  forehead,  leaned  over  and 
said;  4 And  where,  may  I ask,  has  Monsieur  come  from  this 
morning  ? ’ 

44  ‘From  Lyons/  said  I,  with  the  proud  air  of  a man  who  has 
done  a stout  feat,  and  is  not  ashamed  of  the  exploit. 

44  4 From  Lyons  ! ’ said  one.  4 From  Lyons  ! ’ cried  another. 
4 From  Lyons  ! ’ repeated  a third. 

44  4 Yes/  said  I ; 4 what  the  devil  is  so  strange  in  it  ? Travel- 
ling is  so  quick  now-a-days  one  thinks  nothing  of  twenty  leagues 
before  dinner.’ 

44  The  infernal  shout  of  laughing  that  followed  my  explana- 
tion is  still  in  my  ears.  From  one  end  of  the  table  to  the 
other  there  was  one  continued  ha,  ha,  ha  ! — from  the  greasy 
host  to  the  little  hunchbacked  waiter,  they  were  all  grinning 
away. 

44  4 And  how  did  Monsieur  travel  ? ’ said  the  old  gentleman, 
who  seemed  to  carry  on  the  prosecution  against  me. 

44  4 In  the  coupe  of  the  Aigle  noir]  said  I,  giving  the  name 
with  some  pride  that  I was  not  altogether  ignorant  of  the 
conveyance. 

44  4 Then  you  should  certainly  not  complain  of  the  roads/ 
said  the  host,  chuckling;  4 for  the  only  journey  that  diligence 
has  made  this  day  has  been  from  the  street-door  to  the  innyard  ; 
for  as  they  found  when  the  luggage  was  nearly  packed  that  the 
axle  was  almost  broken  through,  they  wheeled  it  round  to  the 
cour , and  prepared  another  for  the  travellers/ 


HARRY  EORREQUER. 


242 

“ 6 And  where  am  I now  ? ’ said  I. 

“ ‘ In  Lyons/  said  twenty  voices,  hall  choked  with  laughter 
at  my  question. 

“ I was  thunderstruck  at  the  news  at  first ; but  as  I proceeded 
with  my  dinner  I joined  in  the  mirth  of  the  party,  which  certainly 
was  not  diminished  on  my  telling  them  the  object  of  my  intended 
journey. 

“‘I  think,  young  man/ said  the  old  fellow  with  the  spec- 
tacles, 4 that  you  should  take  the  occurrence  as  a warning  of 
Providence  that  marriage  will  not  suit  you/  I began  to  be 
of  the  same  opinion ; — but  then  there  was  the  jointure.  To 
be  sure,  I was  to  give  up  tobacco  ; and,  perhaps,  I should  not 
be  as  free  to  ramble  about  as  when  a garfon.  So,  taking  all 
things  into  consideration,  I ordered  in  another  bottle  of 
Burgundy,  to  drink  Mrs.  Ram’s  health — got  my  passport 
vised  for  Bareges — and  set  out  for  the  Pyrenees  the  same 
evening.” 

“ And  have  you  never  heard  anything  more  of  the  lady  ? ” 
said  Mrs.  Bingham. 

“ Oh,  yes.  She  was  faithful  to  the  last ; for  I found  out 
when  at  Rome  last  winter  that  she  had  offered  a reward  for 
me  in  the  newspapers,  and  indeed  had  commenced  a regular 
pursuit  of  me  through  the  w'hole  Continent.  And  to  tell  the 
real  fact,  I should  not  now  fancy  turning  my  steps  towards 
Paris,  if  I had  not  very  tolerable  information  that  she  is  in 
full  cry  after  me  through  the  Wengen  Alps,  I having  contrived 
a paragraph  in  GaligJiani,  to  seduce  her  thither,  and  where, 
with  the  blessing  of  Providence,  if  the  snow  set  in  early,  she 
must  past  the  winter.” 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

PARIS. 

Nothing  more  worthy  of  recording  occurred  before  our  arrival 
at  Meurice’s  on  the  third  day  of  our  journey.  My  friend  O’Leary 
had,  with  his  usual  good  fortune,  become  indispensable  to  his 
new  acquaintance,  and  it  was  not  altogether  without  some  little 
lurking  discontent  that  I perceived  how  much  less  often  my  ser- 
vices were  called  in  request  since  his  having  joined  our  party; 
his  information,  notwithstanding  its  very  scanty  extent,  wras  con- 
tinually relied  upon,  and  his  very  imperfect  French  everlastingly 
called  into  requisition  to  interpret  a question  for  the  ladies. 


PARIS. 


243 


“Yes,”  thought  I,  Othello’s  occupation’s  gone’;  one  of  two 
things  has  certainly  happened,  either  Mrs.  Bingham  and  her 
daughter  have  noticed  my  continued  abstraction  of  mind,  and 
have  attributed  it  to  the  real  cause,  the  preoccupation  of  my  af- 
fections ; or  thinking,  on  the  other  hand,  that  I am  desperately 
in  love  with  one  or  other  of  them,  have  thought  that  a little  show 
of  preference  to  Mr.  O’Leary  may  stimulate  me  to  a proposal  at 
once.”  In  either  case  I resolved  to  lose  no  time  in  taking  my 
leave,  which  there  could  be  no  difficulty  in  doing  now,  as  the 
ladies  had  reached  their  intended  destination,  and  had  numerous 
friends  in  Paris  to  advise  and  assist  them  ; besides  that  I had 
too  long  neglected  the  real  object  of  my  trip,  and  should  lose  no 
time  in  finding  out  the  Callonbys,  and  at  once  learn  what  pros- 
pect of  success  awaited  me  in  that  quarter.  Leaving  my  fair 
friends,  then,  to  refresh  themselves  after  the  journey,  and  con- 
signing Mr.  O’Leary  to  the  enjoyment  of  his  meerschaum,  through 
the  aid  of  which  he  had  rendered  his  apartment  like  a Dutch 
swamp  in  autumn,  the  only  portion  of  his  own  figure  visible 
through  the  mist  being  his  short  legs  and  heavy  shoes,  I set 
forth  at  last. 

On  reaching  the  house  in  the  Rue  de  la  Paix,  where  the  Cal- 
lonbys had  resided,  I learned  that  they  were  still  at  Baden,  and 
were  not  expected  in  Paris  for  some  weeks  ; that  Lord  Kilkee  had 
arrived  that  morning,  and  was  then  dining  at  the  Embassy,  hav- 
ing left  an  invitation  for  me  to  dine  with  him  on  the  following 
day,  if  I happened  to  call.  As  I turned  from  the  door,  uncer- 
tain whither  to  direct  my  steps,  I walked  on  unconsciously 
towards  the  Boulevard,  and,  occupied  as  I was,  thinking  over  all 
the  chances  before  me,  did  not  perceive  where  I stood  till  the 
bright  glare  of  a large  gas-lamp  over  my  head  apprised  me* that 
I was  at  the  door  of  the  well-known  Salon  des  Etrangers  at  the 
corner  of  the  Rue  Richelieu ; carriages,  citadmes , and  vigilantes 
were  crowding,  crashing,  and  clattering  on  all  sides,  as  the  host 
of  fashion  and  the  gaming-table  were  hastening  to  their  champ 
de  bataille . Not  being  a member  of  the  Salon , and  having  little 
disposition  to  enter  if  I had  been,  I stood  for  some  minutes 
looking  at  the  crowd  as  it  continued  to  press  on  towards  the 
splendid  and  brilliantly  lighted  stairs  which  led  from  the  very  street 
to  the  rooms  of  this  palace,  for  such,  in  the  magnificence  and 
luxury  of  its  decorations,  it  really  was.  As  I was  on  the  very 
eve  of  turning  away,  a large  and  very  handsome  cab-horse  turned 
the  corner  from  the  Boulevard,  with  the  most  perfect  appoint- 
ment of  harness  and  carriage  I had  seen  for  a long  time. 

While  I continued  to  admire  the  taste  and  propriety  of  the 
equipage,  a young  man  in  deep  mourning  sprang  from  the  inside 


244 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


and  stood  upon  the  pavement  before  me.  “ A deux  heures , 
Charles,”  said  he  to  his  servant,  as  the  cab  turned  slowly  round. 
The  voice  struck  me  as  well  known.  I waited  till  he  approached 
the  lamp,  to  catch  a glimpse  of  the  face  ; and  what  was  my  sur- 
prise to  recognize  my  cousin,  Guy  Lorrequer,  of  the  ioth,  whom 
I had  not  met  with  for  six  years  before.  My  first  impulse  was 
not  to  make  myself  known  to  him.  Our  mutual  position  with 
regard  to  Lady  Jane  was  so  much  a mystery,  as  regarded  myself, 
that  I feared  the  result  of  any  meeting,  until  I w'as  sufficiently 
aware  of  how  matters  stood,  and  whether  we  were  to  meet  as 
friends  and  relations,  or  rivals,  and  consequently  enemies. 

Before  I had  time  to  take  my  resolution,  Guy  had  recognized 
me,  and  seizing  me  by  the  hand  with  both  his,  called,  “ Harry, 
my  old  friend,  how  are  you  ? How  long  have  you  been  here  ? 
And  never  to  call  on  me  ! Why,  man,  what  is  the  meaning  of 
this  ? ” Before  I had  time  to  say  that  I was  only  a few  hours  in 
Baris,  he  again  interrupted  me  by  saying:  “ And  how  comes  it 
that  you  are  not  in  mourning  ? You  must  surely  have  heard  it.” 
“ Heard  what?”  I cried,  nearly  hoarse  from  agitation.  “Our 
poor  old  friend,  Sir  Guy,  didn’t  you  know,  is  dead.”  Only  those 
who  have  felt  how  strong  the  ties  of  kindred  are,  as  they  decrease 
in  number,  can  tell  how  this  news  fell  upon  my  heart.  All  my 
poor  uncle’s  kindnesses  came  full  upon  my  memory ; his  affec- 
tionate letters  of  advice  ; his  well-meant  chidings,  too,  even 
dearer  to  me  than  his  praise  and  approval,  completely  unmanned 
me ; and  I stood  speechless  and  powerless  before  my  cousin  as 
he  continued  to  detail  to  me  the  rapid  progress  of  Sir  Guy’s  mal- 
ady, an  attack  of  gout  in  the  head,  which  carried  him  off  in  three 
days.  Letters  had  been  sent  to  me  in  different  places,  but  none 
reached  ; and  at  the  very  moment  the  clerk  of  my  uncle’s  lawyer 
was  in  pursuit  of  me  through  the  Highlands,  where  some  mis- 
taken information  had  induced  him  to  follow  me. 

“You  are,  therefore,”  continued  Guy,  “unaware  that  our  uncle 
has  dealt  so  fairly  by  you,  and,  indeed,  by  both  of  us  ; I have 
got  the  Somersetshire  estates,  which  go  with  the  baronetcy ; but 
the  Cumberland  property  is  all  yours  ; and  I heartily  wish  you 
joy  of  having  nearly  eight  diousand  per  annum,  and  one  of  the 
sweetest  villas  that  ever  man  fancied  on  Derwentwater.  But 
come  along  here,”  continued  he,  and  he  led  me  through  the 
crowded  corridor  and  up  the  wide  stair,  “ I have  much  to  tell 
you,  and  we  can  be  perfectly  alone  here ; no  one  will  trouble 
themselves  with  us.”  Unconscious  of  all  around  me,  I followr- 
ed  Guy  along  the  gilded  and  glittering  lobby,  which  led  to  the 
salon , and  it  was  only  as  the  servant  in  rich  livery  came  forward 
to  take  my  hat  and  cane  that  1 remembered  where  I was.  Then 


PARIS. 


245 


the  full  sense  of  all  I had  been  listening  to  rushed  upon  me,  and 
the  unfitness,  and  indeed  the  indecency  of  the  place  for  such  com- 
munications as  we  were  engaged  in,  came  most  forcibly  before 
me.  Sir  Guy,  it  is  true,  had  always  preferred  my  cousin  to  me. 
He  it  was  who  was  always  destined  to  succeed  both  to  his  title  and 
his  estates,  and  his  wildness  and  extravagance  had  ever  met  with 
a milder  rebuke  and  a weaker  chastisement  than  my  follies  and 
misfortunes.  Yet  still  he  was  my  last  remaining  relative  ; the 
only  one  I possessed  in  all  the  world  to  whom  in  any  difficulty  or 
trial  I had  to  look  up ; and  I felt,  in  the  very  midst  of  my  newly 
acquired  wealth  and  riches,  poorer  and  more  alone  than  ever  I had 
done  in  my  lifetime.  I followed  Guy  to  a small  and  dimly-light- 
ed cabinet  off  the  great  salon , where,  having  seated  ourselves, 
he  proceeded  to  detail  to  me  the  various  events  which  a few  short 
weeks  had  accomplished.  Of  himself  he  spoke  but  little,  and 
never  once  alluded  to  the  Callonbys  at  all ; indeed,  all  I could 
learn  was  that  he  had  left  the  army,  and  purposed  remaining 
for  the  winter  at  Paris,  where  he  appeared  to  have  entered  into 
all  its  gayety  and  dissipation  at  once. 

“ Of  course/’  said  he,  “ you  will  give  up  1 sodgering  ’ now  ; at 
the  best  it  is  but  poor  sport  after  five-and-twenty,  and  is  per- 
fectly unendurable  when  a man  has  the  means  of  pushing  him 
self  in  the  gay  world ; and  now,  Harry,  let  us  mix  a little  among 
the  mob  here;  for  Messieurs  les  Banquiers  don’t  hold  people  in 
estimation  who  come  here  only  for  \hechapons  auriz  and  the 
champ  ague  frappe,  as  we  should  seem  to  do  were  we  to  stay  here 
much  longer.” 

Such  was  the  whirl  of  my  thoughts,  and  so  great  the  confusion 
in  my  ideas  from  all  I had  just  heard,  that  I felt  myself  implic- 
itly following  every  direction  of  my  cousin  with  a child-like  obe- 
dience, of  the  full  extent  of  which  I became  only  conscious 
when  I found  myself  seated  at  the  table  of  the  salon , between 
my  cousin  Guy  and  an  old,  hard-visaged,  pale-countenanced 
man  who  he  told  me  in  a whisper  was  Polignac  the  Minister. 

What  a study  for  the  man  who  would  watch  the  passions  and 
emotions  of  his  fellow-men,  would  the  table  of  a rouge  et  noi? 
gambling  house  present — the  skill  and  dexterity  which  games  of 
other  kinds  require  being  here  wanting,  leave  the  player  free  to 
the  full  abandonment  of  the  passion.  The  interest  is  not  a grad- 
ually increasing  or  vacillating  one,  as  fortune  and  knowledge  of 
the  game  favor  ; the  result  is  uninfluenced  by  anything  of  his 
doing;  with  the  last  turned  card  of  the  croupier  is  he  rich  or  ru 
ined  ; and  thus  in  the  very  abstraction  of  the  anxiety  is  this  the 
most  painfully  exciting  of  all  gambling  whatever  ; the  very  rat- 
tle of  the  dice-box  to  the  hazard-player  is  a relief  ; and  the 


246  HARRY  L ORREQ UER. 

thought  that  he  is  in  some  way  instrumental  to  his  good  or  bad 
fortune  gives  a turn  to  his  thoughts.  There  is  something  so 
like  the  inevitable  character  of  fate  associated  with  the  result 
of  a chance,  which  you  can  in  no  way  affect  or  avert,  that  I 
have,  notwithstanding  a strong  bias  for  play,  ever  dreaded  and 
avoided  the  rouge  et  noir  table.  Hitherto  prudential  motives 
had  their  share  in  the  resolve  ; a small  loss  at  play  becomes  a 
matter  of  importance  to  a sub.  in  a marching  regiment,  and,  there 
fore,  I was  firm  in  my  determination,  to  avoid  the  gambling-ta- 
ble. 

Now,  my  fortunes  were  altered  ; and  as  I looked  at  the  heap 
of  shining  louis  d’or,  which  Guy  pushed  before  me  in  exchange 
for  a billet  de  banque  of  large  amount,  I felt  the  full  importance 
of  my  altered  position,  mingling  with  the  old  and  long-practised 
prejudices  which  years  had  been  accumulating  to  fix.  There  is, 
besides,  some  wonderful. fascination  to  most  men  in  the  very  as- 
pect of  high  play  ; to  pit  your  fortune  against  that  of  another — 
to  see  whether  or  not  your  luck  shall  not  exceed  some  other’s — ■ 
are  feelings  that  have  a place  in  most  bosoms,  and  are  certainly, 
if  not  naturally  existing,  most  easily  generated  in  the  bustle  and 
excitement  of  the  gambling-house.  The  splendor  of  the  deco- 
rations— the  rich  profusion  of  gilded  ornaments — the  large  and 
gorgeously  framed  mirrors — the  sparkling  lustres,  mingling  their 
effect  with  the  perfumed  air  of  the  apartment,  filled  with  orange- 
trees  and  other  aromatic  shrubs — the  dress  of  the  company, 
among  whom  were  ladies  in  costumes  not  inferior  to  those  of  a 
court — the  glitter  of  diamonds — the  sparkle  of  stars  and  decora- 
tions, rendered  more  magical  by  knowing  that  the  wearers  were 
names  in  history.  There,  with  his  round  but  ample  shoulder, 
and  large  massive  head,  covered  with  long  snow-white  hair, 
stands  one,  the  maker  and  unmaker  of  kings,  watching  with  a 
look  of  ill-concealed  anxiety  the  progress  of  his  game.  Here  is 
Soult,  with  his  dogged  look  and  beetle  brow  ; there  stands  Bal- 
zac, the  author  ; his  gains  here  are  less  derived  from  the  betting 
than  the  bettors;  he  is  evidently  “ making  his  own”  of  some 
of  them,  while  in  the  seeming  bonhomie  of  his  careless  man- 
ner and  easy  abandon , they  scruple  not  to  trust  him  with 
anecdotes  and  traits,  that  from  the  crucible  of  his  fiery  imagin- 
ation come  forth  like  the  purified  gold  from  the  furnace.  And 
there,  look  at  that  old  and  weather-beaten  man,  with  gray  eye- 
brows, and  mustachios,  who  throws  from  the  breast  pocket  of 
his  frock,  ever  and  anon,  a handful  of  gold  pieces  upon  the 
table  ; he  evidently  neither  knows  nor  cares  for  the  amount,  for 
the  banker  himself  is  obliged  to  count  over  the  stake  for  him — 
that  is  Blucher,  the  never-wanting  attendant  at  the  salon  ; he 


PARIS. 


M7 


has  been  an  immense  loser,  but  plays  on,  and,  with  the  same 
stern  perseverance  with  which  he  would  pour  his  bold  cavalry 
through  a ravine  torn  by  artillery,  he  stands  by  the  still  waning 
chance  with  a courage  that  never  falters. 

One  strong  feature  of  the  levelling  character  of  a taste  for 
play  has  never  ceased  to  impress  me  most  forcibly — not  only  do 
the  individual  peculiarities  of  the  man  give  way  before  the  all- 
absorbing  passion,  but,  stranger  still,  the  very  boldest  traits  of 
nationality  even  fade  and  disappear  before  it ; and  man  seems, 
under  the  high-pressure  power  of  this  greatest  of  all  stimulants, 
resolved  into  a most  abstract  state. 

Among  all  the  traits  which  distinguish  Frenchmen  from  na- 
tives of  every  country,  none  is  more  prominent  than  a kind  of 
never-failing  elasticity  of  temperament,  which  seems  almost  to 
defy  all  the  power  of  misfortune  to  depress.  Let  what  will  hap- 
pen, the  Frenchman  seems  to  possess  some  strong  resource 
within  himself,  in  his  ardent  temperament,  upon  which  he  can 
draw  at  will  ; and  whether  on  the  day  after  a defeat — the  mo- 
ment of  being  deceived  in  his  strongest  hopes  of  returned  affec- 
tion— the  overthrow  of  some  long-cherished  wish — it  matters 
not — he  never  gives  way  entirely  : but  see  him  at  the  gaming- 
table— watch  the  intense,  the  aching  anxiety  with  which  his  eye 
follows  every  card  as  it  falls  from  the  hand  of  the  croupier — be- 
hold the  look  of  cold  despair  that  tracks  his  stake  as  the  banker 
rakes  it  in  among  his  gains — and  you  will  at  once  perceive  that 
here,  at  least,  his  wonted  powers  fail  him.  No  jest  escapes  the 
lips  of  one  that  would  joke  upon  the  steps  of  the  guillotine. 
The  mocker  who  would  jeer  at  the  torments  of  revolution  stands 
like  a coward  quailing  before  the  impassive  eye  and  pale  cheek 
of  a croupier.  While  I continued  to  occupy  myself  by  observ- 
ing the  different  groups  about  me,  I had  been  almost  mechanic- 
ally following  the  game,  placing  at  each  deal  some  gold  upon 
the  table  ; the  result,  however,  had  interested  me  so  slightly, 
that  it  was  only  by  remarking*  the  attention  my  game  had  ex- 
cited in  others,  that  my  own  was  drawn  towards  it.  I then  per- 
ceived that  I had  permitted  my  winnings  to  accumulate  upon 
the  board,  and  that  in  the  very  deal  then  commencing  I had  a 
stake  of  nearly  five  hundred  pounds. 

“ Faites  votre  jeu,  le  jeu  est  fait/5  said  the  croupier,  “ trente- 
deux.” 

“ You  have  lost,  by  Jove  ! 55  said  Guy,  in  a low  whisper,  in 
which  I could  detect  some  trait  of  agitation. 

“ Trente-te-un,’5  added  the  croupier.  “ Rouge  perd,  et  coul- 
eur.” 

There  was  a regular  buzz  of  wonder  through  the  room  at  my 


248 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


extraordinary  luck,  for  thus,  with  every  chance  against  me,  I had 
won  again. 

As  the  croupier  placed  the  billets  de  ba7ique  upon  the  table, 
I overheard  the  muttered  commendations  of  an  old  veteran  be- 
hind me,  upon  the  coolness  and  judgment  of  my  play.  “ So  much 
for  fortune,”  thought  I.  “ My  judgment  consists  in  a perfect 
ignorance  of  the  chances,  and  my  coolness  is  merely  a thorough 
indifference  to  success.”  Whether  it  was  now  that  the  flattery 
had  its  effect  upon  me,  or  that  the  passion  for  play,  so  long  dor- 
mant, had  suddenly  seized  hold  upon  me,  I know  not,  but  my 
attention  became  from  that  moment  riveted  upon  the  game, 
and  I played  every  deal.  Guy,  who  had  been  from  the  first 
betting  with  the  indifferent  success  which  I have  so  often  ob- 
served to  attend  upon  the  calculations  of  old  and  experienced 
gamblers,  now  gave  up,  and  employed  himself  merely  in  watch- 
ing my  game. 

“ Harry,”  said  he,  at  last,  “ I am  completely  puzzled  as  to 
whether  you  are  merely  throwing  down  your  louis  at  hazard,  or 
are  not  the  deepest  player  I have  ever  met  with.” 

“ You  shall  see,”  said  I,  as  I stooped  over  towards  the  banker, 
and  whispered,  “ How  far  is  the  betting  permitted  ? ” 

“ Fifteen  thousand  francs,”  said  the  croupier,  with  a look  of 
surprise. 

“ Here  goes,  then  ! ” said  I ; “ quinze  mille  francs,  rouge.” 

In  a moment  the  rouge  won,  and  the  second  deal  I repeated 
the  bet,  and  so  continued  on  with  the  like  success.  When  I was 
preparing  my  rouleau,  for  the  fifth,  the  banker  rose,  and  saying, 
“Messieurs,  la  banque  est  ferine  pour  ce  soir,”  proceeded  to 
lock  his  cassette,  and  close  the  table. 

“You  are  satisfied  now,”  said  Guy,  rising;  “you  see  you 
have  broken  the  bank,  and  a very  pretty  incident  to  commence 
with,  on  your  first  introduction  to  a campaign  in  Paris.” 

Having  changed  my  gold  for  notes,  I stuffed  them,  with  an 
air  of  well-affected  carelessness,  into  my  pocket,  and  strolled 
through  the  salon , where  I had  now  become  an  object  of  con- 
siderably more  interest  than  all  the  marshals  and  ministers 
about  me. 

“ Now,  Hal,”  said  Guy,  “ 1 11  just  order  our  supper  in  the  cab- 
inet, and  join  you  in  a moment.” 

As  I remained  for  some  minutes  awaiting  Guy’s  return,  my 
attention  was  drawn  towards  a crowd,  in  a smaller  salon , among 
whom  the  usual  silent  decorum  of  the  play-table  seemed  held 
in  but  small  respect,  for  every  instant  some  burst  of  hearty 
laughter,  or  some  open  expression  of  toy  or  anger  burst  forth, 
by  which  I immediately  perceived  that  they  were  the  votaries 


PARIS. 


Mi 


of  the  roulette-table,  a game  at  which  the  strict  propriety  and 
etiquette  ever  maintained  at  rogue  et  noir  are  never  exacted. 
As  I passed  nearer,  to  discover  the  cause  of  the  mirth,  which 
every  moment  seemed  to  augment,  guess  my  surprise  to  per- 
ceive among  the  foremost  rank  of  the  players  my  acquaintance, 
Mr.  O’Leary,  whom  I at  that  moment  believed  to  be  solacing 
himself  with  his  meerschaum  at  Meurice’s.  My  astonishment 
at  how  he  obtained  admission  to  the  salon  was  even  less  than 
my  fear  of  his  recognizing  me.  At  no  time  is  it  agreeable  to 
find  that  the  man  who  is  regarded  as  the  buffo  of  a party  turns 
out  to  be  your  friend  ; but  still  less  is  this  so,  when  the  in- 
dividual claiming  acquaintance  with  you  presents  any  striking 
absurdity  in  his  dress  or  manner,  strongly  at  contrast  with  the 
persons  and  things  about  him.  And  thus  it  now  happened. 
Mr.  O’Leary’s  external  man,  as  we  met  him  on  the  Calais  road, 
with  its  various  accompaniments  of  blouse,  cap,  spectacles,  and 
tobacco-pipe,  were  nothing  very  remarkable,  but  when  the  same 
figure  presented  itself  among  the  elegans  of  the  Parisian  world, 
redolent  of  eau  de  Portugal,  and  superb  in  the  glories  of  bro- 
cade waistcoats  and  velvet  coats,  the  thing  was  too  absurd,  and 
I longed  to  steal  away  before  any  chance  should  present  itself 
of  a recognition.  This,  however,  was  impossible,  as  the  crowd 
from  the  other  table  were  gathered  round  us,  and  I was  obliged 
to  stand  fast,  and  trust  that  the  excitement  of  the  game,  in  which 
he  appeared  to  be  thoroughly  occupied,  might  keep  his  eye 
fixed  on  another  quarter.  I now  observed  that  the  same  scene 
in  which  I had  so  lately  been  occupied  at  the  rouge  et  noir 
table  was  enacted  here,  under  rather  different  circumstances, 
Mr.  O’Leary  was  the  only  player,  as  I had  just  been — not, 
however,  because  his  success  absorbed  all  the  interest  of  the  by- 
standers, but  that,  unfortunately,  his  constant  want  of  it  elicited 
some  strong  expression  of  discontent  and  mistrust  from  him, 
which  excited  the  loud  laughter  of  the  others,  but  of  which, 
from  his  great  anxiety  in  the  game,  he  seemed  totally  uncon- 
scious. 

“ Faites  votre  jeu,  messieurs,”  said  the  croupier. 

“ Wait  a bit  till  I change  this,”  said  Mr.  O’Leary,  producing 
an  English  sovereign ; the  action  interpreted  his  wishes,  and 
the  money  was  converted  into  coupons  de  jeu . 

I now  discovered  one  great  cause  of  the  mirth  of  the  bystand- 
ers, at  least  the  English  portion  of  them.  Mr.  O’Leary,  when 
placing  his  money  upon  the  table,  observed  the  singular  practice 
of  announcing  aloud  the  amount  of  his  bet.  which,  for  his  own 
information,  he  reduced  to  Irish  currency;  thus  the  stillness  of 
the  room  was  every  instant  broken  by  a strong  Irish  accent  pro 


2 5° 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


nouncing  something  of  this  sort — “five  francs,”  “four  and  a 
penny  ” — “ ten  francs,”  “ eight  and  three  ha’pence.”  The  amuse- 
ment thus  caused  was  increased  by  the  excitement  his  losses 
threw  him  into.  He  now  ceased  to  play  for  several  times,  when 
at  last  he  made  an  offering  of  his  usual  stake. 

“ Perd,”  said  the  croupier,  raking  in  the  piece  with  a contempt- 
uous air  at  the  smallness  of  the  bet,  and  in  no  way  pleased  that  the 
interest  Mr.  O’Leary  excited  should  prevent  the  other  players 
from  betting. 

“Perd,”  said  O’Leary,  again.  “Devil  another  song  you  sing 
than  ‘ perd,’  and  I’m  not  quite  clear  you’re  not  cheating  all  the 
while — only,  God  help  you  if  you  are  ! ” 

As  he  so  said,  the  head  of  a huge  blackthorn  stick  was  half 
protruded  across  the  table,  causing  renewed  mirth  ; for,  among 
other  regulations,  every  cane,  however  trifling,  is  always  de- 
manded  at  the  door ; and  thus  a new  subject  of  astonishment 
arose  as  to  how  he  had  succeeded  in  carrying  it  with  him  into  the 
salon e 

“ Here’s  at  you  again,”  said  O’Leary,  regardless  of  the  laugh- 
ter, and  covering  three  or  four  numbers  with  his  jetons% 

Round  went  the  ball  once  more,  and  once  more  he  lost. 

“ Look  now,  devil  a lie  in  it,  he  makes  them  go  wherever  he 
pleases.  I’ll  take  a turn  now  at  the  tables  ; fair  play’s  a jewel 
—and  we’ll  see  how  you’ll  get  on.” 

So  saying,  he  proceeded  to  insinuate  himself  into  the  chair  of 
the  croupier,  whom  he  proposed  to  supersede,  by  no  very  gentle 
means.  This  was  of  course  resisted,  and  as  the  loud  mirth  of 
the  bystanders  grew  more  and  more  boisterous,  the  cries  of  “ A 
la porte!  A la porte!”  from  the  friends  of  the  bank,  rang  through 
the  crowd. 

“ Go  it,  Pat — go  it,  Pat,”  said  Guy,  over  my  shoulder,  who 
seemed  to  take  a prodigious  interest  in  the  proceedings. 

At  this  unexpected  recognition  of  his  nativity — for  Mr.  O’Leary 
never  suspected  he  could  be  discovered  by  his  accent — he  looked 
across  the  table,  and  caught  my  eye  at  once. 

“Oh,  I’m  safe  now!  stand  by  me,  Mr.  Lorrequer,  and  we’ll 
clear  the  room.” 

So  saying,  and  without  any  further  provocation,  he  upset  the 
croupier,  chair  and  all,  with  one  sudden  jerk  upon  the  floor,  and 
giving  a tremendous  kick  to  the  cassette,  sent  all  the  five-franc 
pieces  flying  over  him  ; he  then  jumped  upon  the  table,  and 
brandishing  his  blackthorn  through  the  ormolu  lustre,  scattered 
the  wax-lights  on  all  sides,  accompanying  the  exploit  by  a yell 
that  would  have  called  up  all  Connemara  at  midnight,  if  it  had 
only  been  heard  there ; in  an  instant,  the  gendarmes,  always 


PARIS. 


251 


sufficiently  near  to  be  called  in  if  required,  came  pouring  into 
the  room,  and  supposing  the  whole  affair  had  been  a precon- 
certed thing  to  obtain  possession  of  the  money  in  the  bank,  com- 
menced capturing  different  members  of  the  company  who  ap- 
peared by  enjoying  the  confusion  to  be  favoring  and  assisting 
it.  My  cousin  Guy  was  one  of  the  first  so  treated — a proceeding 
to  which  he  responded  by  an  appeal  rather  in  favor  with  most 
Englishmen,  and  at  once  knocked  down  the  gendarme  ; this  was 
the  signal  for  a general  engagement,  and  accordingly,  before  an 
explanation  could  possibly  be  attempted,  a most  terrific  combat 
ensued.  The  Frenchmen  in  the  room  siding  with  the  gendar- 
merie, and  making  common  cause  against  the  English  ; who, 
although  greatly  inferior  in  number,  possessed  considerable  ad- 
vantage, from  long  habit  in  street-rows  and  boxing  encounters. 
As  for  myself,  I had  the  good  fortune  to  be  pitted  against  a very 
pursy  and  unwieldy  Frenchman,  who  sacre'd  to  admiration,  but 
never  put  in  a single  blow  at  me  ; while,  therefore,  I amused 
myself  practising  what  old  Cribb  called  “ the  one,  two,”  upon 
his  fat  carcass,  I had  abundant  time  and  opportunity  to  watch 
all  that  was  doing  about  me,  and  truly  a more  ludicrous  affair  I 
never  beheld.  Imagine  about  fifteen  or  sixteen  young  English- 
men, most  of  them  powerful,  athletic  fellows,  driving  an  indis- 
criminate mob  of  about  five  times  their  number  before  them,  who, 
with  courage  enough  to  resist,  were  yet  so  totally  ignorant  of  the 
boxing  art,  that  they  all  retreated  pell-mell  before  the  battering 
phalanx  of  their  sturdy  opponents — the  most  ludicrous  figure  of 
all  being  Mr.  O’Leary  himself,  who,  standing  upon  the  table, 
laid  about  him  with  a brass  lustre  that  he  had  unstrung,  and  did 
considerable  mischief  with  this  novel  instrument  of  warfare,  cry- 
ing out  the  entire  time,  “ Murder  every  mother’s  son  of  them  ! ” 
“ Give  them  another  taste  of  Waterloo!”  Just  as  he  had  ut- 
tered the  last  patriotic  sentiment,  he  received  a slight  admoni- 
tion from  behind,  by  the  point  of  a gendarme’s  sword,  which  made 
him  leap  from  the  table  with  the  alacrity  of  a harlequin,  and  come 
plump  down  among  the  thickest  of  the  fray. 

My  attention  was  now  directed  elsewhere,  for  above  all  the  din 
and  tapage  of  the  encounter  I could  plainly  hear  the  row-dow- 
dow  of  the  drums  and  the  measured  tread  of  troops  approaching, 
and  at  once  guessed  that  a re-enforcement  of  the  gendarmerie 
were  coming  up.  Behind  me  there  was  a large  window  with  a 
heavy  scarlet  curtain  before  it ; my  resolution  was  at  once  taken  ; 
I floored  my  antagonist,  whom  I had  till  now  treated  with  the 
most  merciful  forbearance,  and  immediately  sprang  behind  the 
curtain.  A second’s  consideration  showed  that  in  the  search 
that  must  ensue  this  would  afford  no  refuge,  so  I at  once  opened 


252 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


the  sash,  and  endeavored  to  ascertain  at  what  height  I was 
above  the  ground  beneath  me ; the  night  was  so  dark  that  I 
could  see  nothing,  but  judging  from  the  leaves  and  twigs  that 
reached  to  the  window  that  it  was  a garden  beneath,  and  augur- 
ing from  the  perfumed  smell  of  the  shrubs,  that  they  could  not 
be  tall  trees,  I resolved  to  leap,  a resolve  I had  little  time  to 
come  to,  for  the  step  of  the  soldiers  was  already  heard  upon  the 
stair.  Fixing  my  hat,  then,  down  upon  my  brows,  and  but- 
toning my  coat  tightly,  I let  myself  down  from  the  window-stool 
by  my  hands,  and  fell  upon  my  legs  in  the  soft  earth  of  the  gar- 
den, safe  and  unhurt.  From  the  increased  clamor  and  din  over- 
head, I could  learn  the  affray  was  at  its  height,  and  had  little 
difficulty  in  detecting  the  sonorous  accent  and  wild  threats  of  my 
friend  Mr.  O’Leary  high  above  all  the  other  sounds  around 
him.  I did  not  wait  long,  however,  to  enjoy  them,  but  at 
once  set  about  securing  my  escape  from  my  present  bondage. 
In  this  I had  little  difficulty,  for  I was  directed  by  a light  to  a 
small  door,  which,  as  I approached,  found  that  it  led  into  the 
den  of  the  concierge , and  also  communicated  by  another  door 
with  the  street.  I opened  it  therefore,  at  once,  and  was  in  the 
act  of  opening  the  second,  when  I felt  myself  seized  by  the  col- 
lar by  a strong  hand ; and  on  turning  round,  saw  the  sturdy  fig- 
ure of  the  concierge  himself,  with  a drawn  bayonet  within  a few 
inches  of  my  throat.  “Tenez,  mon  ami,”  said  I,  quietly;  and 
placing  half  a dozen  louis,  some  of  my  recent  spoils,  in  his  hand, 
at  once  satisfied  him  that,  even  if  I were  a robber,  I was  at  least 
one  that  understood  and  respected  the  convenience  of  society. 
He  at  once  relinquished  his  hold  and  dropped  his  weapon,  and 
pulling  off  his  cap  with  one  hand,  to  draw  the  cord  which  opened 
the  porte  cochere  with  the  other,  bowed  me  politely  to  the  street 
I had  scarcely  had  time  to  insinuate  myself  into  the  dense  mass 
of  the  people  whom  the  noise  and  confusion  within  had  assem- 
bled around  the  house,  when  the  double  door  of  the  building 
opened,  and  a file  of  gendarmerie  came  forth,  leading  between 
them  my  friend  Mr.  O’Leary  and  some  others  of  the  rioters — 
among  whom  I rejoiced  to  find  my  cousin  did  not  figure.  If  I 
were  to  judge  from  his  disordered  habiliments  and  scarred  vis- 
age, Mr.  O’Leary’s  resistance  to  the  constituted  authorities  must 
have  been  a vigorous  one,  and  the  drollery  of  his  appearance  was 
certainly  not  decreased  by  his  having  lost  the  entire  brim  of  his 
hat — the  covering  of  his  head  bearing  under  these  distressing 
circumstances,  a strong  resemblance  to  a saucepan. 

As  I could  not  at  that  moment  contribute  in  any  way  to  his 
rescue,  I determined  on  the  following  day  to  be  present  at  his 
examination,  and  render  him  all  the  assistance  in  my  power 


PARIS. 


253 


Meanwhile,  I returned  to  Meurice’s,  thinking  of  every  adventure 
of  the  evening  much  more  than  ot  my  own  changed  condition 
and  altered  fortunes. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

PARIS. 

The  first  thing  which  met  my  eye,  when  waking  in  the  morn- 
ing, after  the  affair  at  the  salon , was  the  rouleau  of  billeis  de 
banque  which  I had  won  at  play;  and  it  took  several  minutes 
before  I could  persuade  myself  that  the  entire  recollection  of 
the  evening  had  any  more  solid  foundation  than  a heated  brain 
and  fevered  imagination.  The  sudden  spring  from  being  a 
subaltern  in  the  4 — th,  with  a few  hundreds  per  annum — -pour 
tout  potage,  to  becoming  the  veritable  proprietor  of  several 
thousands,  with  a handsome  house  in  Cumberland,  was  a con- 
sideration which  I could  scarcely  admit  into  my  mind — so  fearful 
was  I that  the  very  first  occurrence  of  the  day  should  dispel 
the  illusion,  and  throw  me  back  into  the  dull  reality  which  I 
was  hoping  to  escape  from. 

There  is  no  adage  more  true  than  the  old  Roman  one — 
“ that  what  we  wish,  we  readily  believe,”  so  I had  little  difficulty 
in  convincing  myself  that  all  was  as  I desired — although, 
certainly,  my  confused  memory  of  the  past  evening  contributed 
little  to  that  conviction.  It  was,  then,  amid  a very  whirl  of 
anticipated  pleasures,  and  new  schemes  for  enjoying  life,  that  I 
sat  down  to  a breakfast,  at  which,  that  I might  lose  no  time 
in  commencing  my  race,  I had  ordered  the  most  exquisite 
viands  which  even  French  cookery  could  accomplish  for  the 
occasion. 

My  plans  were  soon  decided  upon.  I resolved  to  remain 
only  long  enough  in  Paris  to  provide  myself  with  a comfort- 
able travelling  carriage,  secure  a good  courier,  and  start  for 
Baden ; when  I trusted  that  my  pretensions,  whatever  favor 
they  might  have  been  once  received  with,  would  certainly 
now,  at  least,  be  listened  to  with  more  prospect  of  being 
successful. 

I opened  the  Galignani’s  paper  of  the  day  to  direct  me  in 
my  search,  and  had  scarcely  read  a few  lines  before  a para- 
graph caught  my  eye,  which  not  a little  amused  me ; it  was 
headed — Serious  Riot  at  the  Salon  des  Etr angers,  and  attempt  to 
Rob  the  Bank : 


*54 


HARRY  LORREQUER . 


“ Last  evening,  among  the  persons  who  presented  them* 
selves  at  the  tables  of  this  fashionable  resort,  were  certain  in- 
dividuals who,  by  their  manners  and  dress,  bespoke  anything 
rather  than  the  rank  and  condition  of  those  who  usually 
resort  there,  and  whose  admission  is  still  unexplained,  not- 
withstanding the  efforts  of  the  police  to  unravel  the  mysteryc 
The  proprietors  of  the  bank  did  not  fail  to  remark  these  per- 
sons, but  scrupled,  from  fear  of  disturbing  the  propriety  of 
the  salon , to  take  the  necessary  steps  for  their  exclusion,  re= 
serving  their  intention  to  the  adoption  of  precautions  against 
such  intrusion  in  future — unfortunately,  as  it  turned  out 
eventually — for,  towards  eleven  o’clock,  one  of  these  in- 
dividuals, having  lost  a considerable  sum  at  play,  proceeded 
in  a very  violent  and  outrageous  manner  to  denounce  the 
bank,  and  went  so  far  as  to  accuse  the  croupier  of  cheating. 
This  language,  having  failed  to  excite  the  disturbance  it  was 
evidently  intended  to  promote,  was  soon  followed  up  by  a 
most  dreadful  personal  attack  upon  the  banker,  in  which  he 
was  thrown  from  his  seat,  and  the  cassette,  containing  several 
thousand  francs  in  gold  and  notes,  immediately  laid  hold  of. 
The  confusion  now  became  considerable,  and  it  was  apparent 
that  the  whole  had  been  a preconcerted  scheme.  Several 
persons,  leaping  upon  the  table,  attempted  to  extinguish  the 
great  lustre  of  the  salon,  in  which  bold  attempt  they  were 
most  spiritedly  resisted  by  some  of  the  other  players  and  the 
gendarmes,  who  had  by  this  time  arrived  in  force.  The  riot 
was  quelled  after  a prolonged  and  desperate  resistance,  and 

the  rioters,  with  the  exception  of  two,  were  captured,  and 

conveyed  to  prison,  where  they  await  the  result  of  a judicial 
investigation,  of  which  we  shall  not  fail  to  lay  the  particulars 
before  our  readers. 

“ Since  our  going  to  press,  we  have  learned  that  one  of  the 
ringleaders  in  this  vile  scheme  is  a noted  English  escroc — a 

swindler,  who  was  already  arrested  at  C for  travelling 

with  a false  passport,  but  who  contrives,  by  some  collusion 
with  another  of  the  gang,  to  evade  the  local  authorities.  If 

this  be  the  case,  we  trust  he  will  speedily  be  detected  and 

brought  to  punishment.  ” 

Whatever  amusement  I had  found  in  reading  the  com- 
mencing portion  of  this  ridiculous  misstatement,  the  allusion 
in  the  latter  part  by  no  means  afforded  me  equal  pleasure  ; 
and  I saw  in  one  rapid  glance  how  much  annoyance,  and  how 
many  delays  and  impediments,  a charge  even  of  this  ridiculous 
nature  might  give  rise  to  in  my  present  circumstances.  “ My 
passport,  however,  will  settle  all”  bought  I,  as  I thrust  my 


PARIS.  25s 

hand  towards  my  pocket,  in  which  I had  placed  it  along  with 
some  letter^. 

Guess  my  misery  to  discover  that  the  whole  of  the  pocket  had 
been  cut  away,  probably  in  the  hope  of  obtaining  the  billets  de 
banque  I had  won  at  play,  but  which  I had  changed  from  that 
pocket  to  a breast  one  on  leaving  the  table.  This  at  once  led 
me  to  suspect  that  there  might  be  some  truth  in  the  suspicion 
of  the  newspaper  writer  of  a preconcerted  scheme,  and  at  once 
explained  to  me  what  had  much  puzzled  me  before — the  extreme 
rapidity  with  which  the  elements  of  discord  were  propagated,  for 
the  whole  affair  was  the  work  of  a few  seconds.  While  I con- 
tinued to  meditate  on  these  matters,  the  waiter  entered  with  a 
small  note  in  an  envelope,  which  a commissionnaire  had  iust  left 
at  the  hotel  for  me,  and  went  away,  saying  there  was  no  answer. 
I opened  it  hastily,  and  read  : — 

“ Dear  H., — The  confounded  affair  of  last  night  has  induced 
me  to  leave  this  city  for  a few  days  ; besides  that,  I have  obtained 
a most  excellent  reason  for  absenting  myself  in  the  presence  of 
a black  eye,  which  will  prevent  my  appearance  in  public  for  a 
week  to  come.  As  you  are  a stranger  here,  you  need  not  fear 
being  detected.  With  all  its  desagremens , I can’t  help  laughing 
at  the  adventure,  and  I am  heartily  glad  to  have  had  the  oppor- 
tunity of  displaying  old  Jackson’s  science  upon  those  wretched 
gendarmes. 

“ Yours  truly,  G.  L.” 

“ This  certainly,”  thought  I,  “ improves  my  position.  Here  is 
my  cousin  Guy — the  only  one  to  whom,  in  any  doubt  or  diffi- 
culty here,  I could  refer — here  he  is — flown,  without  letting  me 
know  where  to  address  him  or  find  him  out.”  I rang  my  bell 
hastily,  and  having  written  a line  on  my  card,  requesting  Lord 
Kilkee  to  come  to  me  as  soon  as  he  could,  despatched  it  to  the 
Rue  de  la  Paix.  The  messenger  soon  returned  with  an  answer 
that  Lord  Kilkee  had  been  obliged  to  leave  Paris  late  the  even- 
ing before,  having  received  some  important  letters  from  Baden. 
My  anxiety  now  became  greater.  I did  not  know  but  that  the 
moment  I ventured  to  leave  the  hotel  I should  be  recognized 
by  some  of  the  witnesses  of  the  evening’s  fray  ; and  all  thoughts 
of  succoring  poor  O’Leary  were  completely  forgotten  in  my 
fear  for  the  annoyances  the  whole  of  this  ridiculous  affair  might 
involve  me  in.  Without  any  decision  as  to  my  future  steps,  I 
dressed  myself,  and  proceeded  to  pay  my  respects  to  Mrs.  Bing- 
ham and  her  daughter,  who  were  in  the  same  hotel,  and  whom 
I had  not  seen  since  our  arrival 


HARR  V L ORREQUER. 


256 

As  I entered  the  drawing-room  I was  surprised  to  find  Miss 
Bingham  alone.  She  appeared  to  have  been  weeping — at  least 
the  efforts  she  made  to  appear  easy  and  in  good  spirits  con- 
trasted a good  deal  with  the  expression  of  her  features  as  I came 
in.  To  my  inquiries  for  Mrs.  Bingham,  I received  for  answer 
that  the  friends  Mrs.  Bingham  had  expected  having  left  a few 
days  before  for  Baden,  she  had  resolved  on  following  them,  and 
had  now  merely  driven  out  to  make  a few  purchases  before  her 
departure,  which  was  to  take  place  in  the  morning. 

There  is  something  so  sad  in  the  thought  of  being  deserted 
and  left  by  one’s  friends  under  any  circumstances,  that  I cannot 
express  how  much  this  intelligence  affected  me.  It  seemed,  too, 
like  the  last  drop  of  bad  news  filling  up  the  measure,  that  I was 
to  be  suddenly  deprived  of  the  society  of  the  very  few  friends 
about  me,  just  as  I stood  most  in  need  of  them. 

Whether  or  not  Miss  Bingham  noticed  my  embarrassment, 
I cannot  say ; but  certainly  she  seemed  not  displeased,  and  there 
was  in  the  half-encouraging  tone  of  her  manner  something  which 
led  me  to  suspect  that  she  was  not  dissatisfied  with  the  impres- 
sion her  news  seemed  to  produce  upon  me. 

Without  at  all  alluding  to  my  own  improved  fortune,  or  to  the 
events  of  the  preceding  night,  I began  to  talk  over  the  coming 
journey,  and  expressed  my  sincere  regret  that,  having  lost  my 
passport  under  circumstances  which  might  create  some  delay, 
I could  not  join  their  party  as  1 should  otherwise  have 
done. 

Miss  Bingham  heard  this  speech  with  rather  more  emotion 
than  so  simple  a declaration  was  calculated  to  produce  ; and, 
while  she  threw  down  her  eyes  beneath  their  long  dark  lashes, 
and  colored  slightly,  asked, — 

“ And  did  you  really  wish  to  come  with  us  ? ” 

“ Undoubtedly,”  said  I. 

“ And  is  there  no  other  objection  than  the  passport  ? ” 

“ None  whatever,”  said  I,  warming  as  I spoke,  for  the  inter- 
est she  appeared  to  take  in  me  completely  upset  all  my  calcu- 
lations ; besides  that,  I had  never  seen  her  looking  so  hand- 
some, and  that , as  the  French  wisely  remark,  vaut  toujours  quel- 
que  chose. 

“ Oh,  then,  pray  come  with  us,  which  you  can  do,  for  mamma 
has  just  got  a passport  for  her  nephew  along  with  her  own  ; and 
as  we  really  don’t  want  him,  nor  he  us , we  shall  both  be  better 
pleased  to  be  free  of  each  other,  and  you  can  easily  afterwards 
have  your  own  forwarded  to  Baden  by  post.” 

“ Ah,  but,”  said  I,  “ how  shall  I be  certain,  if  I take  so  flat- 
tering an  offer,  that  you  will  forgive  me  for  filling  up  the  place 


PARIS. 


257 


of  the  dear  cousin,  for,  if  I conjecture  aright,  it  is  le  cher  Edou- 
ard that  purposes  to  be  your  companion.” 

“ Yes,  you  have  guessed  quite  correctly ; but  you  must  not 
tax  me  with  inconsistency,  but  really  I have  grown  quite  tired 
of  my  poor  cousin,  since  I saw  him  last  night.” 

“ And  you  used  to  admire  him  most  prodigiously.” 

“ Well,  well,  that  is  all  true,  but  I do  so  no  longer.” 

“ Eh  ! perche  ? ” said  I,  looking  cunningly  in  her  eye. 

“ For  reasons  that  Mr.  Lorrequer  shall  never  know  if  he 
has  to  ask  them,”  said  the  poor  girl,  covering  her  eyes  with  her 
hands,  and  sobbing  bitterly. 

What  I thought,  said,  or  did  upon  this  occasion,  with  all  my 
most  sincere  desire  to  make  a “ clean  breast  of  it  in  these  Con- 
fessions,” I know  not ; but  this  I do  know,  that  two  hours  after,  I 
found  myself  still  sitting  upon  the  sofa  beside  Miss  Bingham,  whom 
I had  been  calling  Emily  all  the  while,  and  talking  more  of  per- 
sonal matters  and  my  own  circumstances  than  is  ever  safe  or 
prudent  for  a young  man  to  do  with  any  lady  under  the  age  of 
his  mother. 

All  that  I can  now  remember  of  this  interview  is  the  fact  of 
having  arranged  my  departure  in  the  manner  proposed  by  Miss 
Bingham — a proposition  to  which  I acceded  with  an  affectation 
of  satisfaction  that  I fear  went  very  far  to  deceive  my  fair  friend. 
Not  that  the  pleasure  I felt  in  the  prospect  was  altogether 
feigned  ; but  certainly  the  habit  of  being  led  away  by  the  whim 
and  temper  of  the  moment  had  so  much  become  part  of  my  nat- 
ure, that  I had  long  since  despaired  of  ever  guarding  myself 
against  the  propensity  I had  acquired  of  following  every  lead 
which  any  one  might  throw  out  for  me.  And  thus,  as  poor 
Harry  Lorrequer  was  ever  the  first  man  to  get  into  a row  at  the 
suggestion  of  a friend,  so  he  only  waited  the  least  possible  press- 
ing on  any  occasion  to  involve  himself  in  any  scrape  or  misfort- 
une that  presented  itself,  provided  there  was  only  some  one  good 
enough  to  advise  him  to  do  so. 

,As  I entered  my  own  room,  to  make  preparations  for  my  de- 
parture, I could  not  help  thinking  over  all  the  events  thus 
crowded  into  the  space  of  a few  hours.  My  sudden  possession 
of  wealth — my  prospects  at  Callonby  still  undecided — my  scrape 
at  the  salon — my  late  interview  with  Miss  Bingham,  in  which  I 
had  only  stopped  short  of  a proposal  to  marry,  were  almost 
sufficient  to  occupy  any  reasonable  mind  ; and  so  I was  begin- 
ning to  suspect,  when  the  waiter  informed  me  that  the  commis- 
saire  of  police  was  in  waiting  below  and  wished  to  speak  to  me. 
Affecting  some  surprise  at  the  request,  which  I at  once  perceived 
the  object  pf;  I desired  him  to  be  introduced.  I was  quite  cor- 


2 58 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


rect  in  my  guess.  The  information  of  my  being  concerned  in 
the  affair  at  the  salon  had  been  communicated  to  the  authorities, 
and  the  commissaire  had  orders  to  obtain  bail  for  my  appear- 
ance at  the  Tribunal  de  Justice,  on  that  day  week,  or  commit 
me  at  once  to  prison.  The  commissaire  politely  gave  me  till 
evening  to  procure  the  required  bail,  satisfying  himself  that  he 
could  adopt  measures  to  prevent  my  escape,  and  took  his  leave. 
He  had  scarcely  gone  when  Mr.  Edward  Bingham  was  an- 
nounced— the  reason  for  this  visit  I could  not  so  easily  divine  : 
but  I had  little  time  allowed  for  my  conjectures,  as  the  same  instant 
a very  smart  dapper  little  gentleman  presented  himself,  dressed 
in  all  the  extravagance  of  French  mode.  His  hair,  which  was  per- 
mitted to  curl  upon  his  shoulders,  was  divided  along  the  middle 
of  the  head  ; his  mustachios  were  slightly  upturned  and  carefully 
waxed,  and  his  small  chin- tuft  or  Henri  Quatre  most  gracefully 
pointed ; he  wore  three  most  happily  contrasting  colored  waist- 
coats, and  spurs  of  glittering  brass.  His  visit  was  of  scarcely 
five  minutes’  duration  ; but  was  evidently  the  opening  of  a 
breaching  battery  by  the  Bingham  family  in  all  form — the  object 
of  which  I could  at  least  guess  at. 

My  embarrassments  were  not  destined  to  end  here  ; for 
scarcely  had  I returned  Mr.  Bingham’s  eighth  salutation  at  the 
end  of  the  staircase,  when  another  individual  presented  himself 
before  me.  This  figure  was  in  every  respect  the  opposite  of 
my  last  visitor.  Although  framed  perfectly  upon  the  late  Pa- 
risian school  of  dandyism,  his,  however,  was  the  Ecole  militaire . 
Le  Capitaine  Eugene  de  Joncourt,  for  so  he  introduced  himself, 
was  a portly  personage  of  about  five-and-thirty  or  forty  years 
of  age,  with  that  mixture  of  bonho?nie  and  ferocity  in  his  features 
which  the  soldiers  of  Napoleon’s  army  either  affected  or  pos- 
sessed naturally.  His  features,  which  were  handsome,  and  the 
expression  of  which  was  pleasing,  were,  as  it  seemed,  perverted, 
by  the  warlike  turn  of  a most  terrific  pair  of  whiskers  and  mus- 
tachios, from  their  naturally  good-humored  bent ; and  the  prac- 
tised frown  and  quick  turn  of  his  dark  eye  were  evidently  only 
the  acquired  advantages  of  his  military  career ; a handsome 
mouth,  with  singularly  regular  and  good  teeth,  took  much  away 
from  the  stern  look  of  the  upper  part  of  his  face,  and  con- 
tributed, with  the  aid  of  a most  pleasing  voice,  to  impress  you 
in  his  favor  ; his  dress  was  a blue  braided  frock,  decorated 
with  the  cordon  of  the  Legion  ; but  neither  these,  nor  the  clink 
of  his  long  cavalry  spurs,  were  necessary  to  convince  you  that 
the  man  was  a soldier ; besides  that,  there  was  that  mixture  of 
urbanity  and  aplomb  in  his  manner,  which  showed  him  to  be 
perfectly  accustomed  to  the  usages  of  the  best  society. 


PARIS. 


2 59 


“ May  I beg  to  know/’  said  he,  as  he  seated  himself  slowly, 
“if  this  card  contains  your  name  and  address?”  handing  me 
at  the  same  moment  one  of  my  visiting  cards.  I immediately 
replied  in  the  affirmative. 

“ You  are  in  the  English  service  ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Then,  may  I entreat  your  pardon  for  the  trouble  of  these 
questions,  and  explain  the  reason  of  my  visit  ? I am  the  friend 
of  Le  Baron  d’Haulpenne,  with  whom  you  had  the  altercation 
last  night  at  the  salon , and  in  whose  name  I have  come  to  re- 
quest the  address  of  a friend  on  your  part.” 

“ Ho,  ho,”  thought  I,  “the  baron  is  then  the  stout  gentleman 
that  I pummelled  so  unmercifully  near  the  window ; but  how 
came  he  by  my  card  ? and  besides,  in  a row  of  that  kind,  I am 
not  aware  how  far  the  matter  can  be  conceived  to  go  farther 
than  what  happens  at  the  moment.”  These  were  the  thoughts 
of  a second  of  time,  and  before  I could  reply,  the  captain  re- 
sumed, 

“ You  seem  to  have  forgotten  the  circumstance,  and  so,  in- 
deed, should  I like  to  do ; but,  unfortunately,  D’Haulpenne 
says  that  you  struck  him  with  your  walking-cane,  so  you  know, 
under  such  a state  of  things,  there  is  but  one  course.” 

“ But  gently,”  added  I,  “ I had  no  cane  whatever  last  even- 
ing.” 

“ Oh,  I beg  pardon,”  interrupted  he ; “ but  my  friend  is 
most  positive  in  his  account,  and  describes  the  altercation  as 
having  continued  from  the  salon  to  the  street,  when  you  struck 
him,  and  at  the  same  time  threw  him  your  card.  Two  of  your 
officers  were  also  present ; and  although,  as  it  appears  from 
your  present  forgetfulness,  that  the  thing  took  place  in  the  heat 
and  excitement  of  the  moment,  still ” 

“But  still,”  said  I,  catching  up  his  last  words,  “ I never  did 
strike  the  gentleman  as  you  describe,  never  had  any  altercation 
in  the  street — and ” 

“ Is  that  your  address  ? ” said  the  Frenchman,  with  a slight 
bow. 

“ Yes,  certainly  it  is.” 

“Why,  then,”  said  he,  with  a mild  curl  of  his  upper  lip,  half 
smile,  half  derision 

“ Why,  then,  make  yourself  perfectly  easy,”  I replied.  “ If 
any  one  has  by  an  accident  made  use  of  my  name,  it  shall  not 
suffer  by  such  a mistake.  • I shall  be  quite  at  your  service  the 
moment  I can  find  a friend  to  refer  you  to.” 

I had  much  difficulty  to  utter  these  few  words  with  a suitable 
degree  of  temper,  so  stung  was  I by  the  insolent  demeanor  of 


HARRY  L ORREQ O'ER. 


260 

the  Frenchman,  whose  coolness  and  urbanity  seemed  only  to 
increase  every  moment. 

“Then  I have  the  honor  to  salute  you,”  said  he,  rising  with 
great  mildness  in  his  voice  ; “ and  shall  tal^e  the  liberty  to  leave 
my  card  for  the  information  of  your  friend.” 

So  saying,  he  placed  his  card  upon  the  table,  “ La  Capitaine 
Eugene  de  Joncourt,  Cuirassiers  de  la  Garde.” 

“ I need  not  press  upon  Monsieur  the  value  of  despatch.” 

“ I shall  not  lose  a moment,”  said  I,  as  he  clattered  down  the 
stairs  of  the  hotel,  with  that  perfect  swaggering  nonchalance  which 
your  foreigner  is  always  an  adept  in  ; and  I returned  to  my 
room  to  meditate  upon  my  numerous  embarrassments,  and 
think  over  the  difficulties  which  every  moment  was  contribut- 
ing to  increase  the  number  of. 

“ The  indictment  has  certainly  many  counts,”  thought  I. 

Imprimis  : a half-implied,  but  fully  comprehended  promise  to 
marry  a young  lady,  with  whom,  I confess,  I only  intend  to 
journey  this  life — as  far  as  Baden. 

Secondly:  a charge  of  swindling — for  such  the  imputation 
amounts  to — at  the  salo?i. 

Thirdly : another  unaccountable  delay  in  joining  the  Cal- 
lonbys,  with  whom  I am  every  hour  in  the  risk  of  being  com- 
promis  ; and,  lastly,  a duel  in  perspective  with  some  confounded 
Frenchman,  who  is  at  this  very  moment  practising  at  a pistol 
gallery. 

Such  were  the  heads  of  my  reflections,  and  such  the  agree- 
able impressions  my  visit  to  Paris  was  destined  to  open  with  ; 
how  they  were  to  be  followed  up  remains  to  be  told. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

CAPTAIN  TREVANION’s  ADVENTURE. 

As  the  day  “was  now  waning  apace,  and  I was  still  unprovided 
with  any  one  who  could  act  as  my  second,  I set  out  upon  a 
search  through  the  various  large  hotels  in  the  neighborhood, 
trusting  that  amid  my  numerous  acquaintance  I should  be  fort- 
unate enough  to  find  some  of  them  at  Paris.  With  a most 
anxious  eye  I scanned  the  lists  of  arrivals  at  the  usual  haunts 
of  my  countrymen,  in  the  Rue  Rivoli  and  the  Place  Vendome, 
but  without  success ; there  were  long  catalogues  of  “ Milors,” 
with  their  “ couriers,”  etc.,  but  not  one  name  known  to  me  in  the 
number,, 


CAPTAIN  TREVANIONS  ADVENTURE . 


261 


I repaired  to  Galignani’s  Library,  which,  though  crowded  as 
ever  with  English,  did  not  present  to  me  one  familiar  face.  From 
thence  I turned  into  the  Palais  Royal,  and  at  last,  completely 
jaded  by  walking,  and  sick  from  disappointment,  I sat  down  upon 
a bench  in  the  Tuileries  Gardens. 

I had  scarcely  been  there  many  minutes  when  a gentleman 
accosted  me  in  English,  saying,  “ May  I ask  if  this  be  your 
property  ? ” showing,  at  the  same  time,  a pocket-book  which  I 
had  inadvertently  dropped  in  pulling  out  my  handkerchief.  As 
I thanked  him  for  his  attention,  and  was  about  to  turn  away,  I 
perceived  that  he  continued  to  look  very  steadily  at  me.  At 
length  he  said, — 

“ I think  I am  not  mistaken ; I have  the  pleasure  to  see  Mr. 
Lorrequer,  who  may,  perhaps,  recollect  my  name,  Trevanion,  of 
the  43d.  The  last  time  we  met  was  at  Malta.” 

“Oh,  I remember  perfectly.  Indeed,  I should  be  very  un- 
grateful if  I did  not ; for  to  your  kind  offices  there  I am  indebted 
for  my  life.  You  must  surely  recollect  the  street  row  near  the 
battery  ? ” 

“ Yes  ; that  was  rather  a brisk  affair  while  it  lasted  ; but,  pray, 
how  long  have  you  been  here  ? ” 

“ Merely  a few  days  ;•  and  most  anxious  am  I to  leave  as 
soon  as  possible  ; for,  independently  of  pressing  reasons  to 
wish  myself  elsewhere,  I have  had  nothing  but  trouble  and 
worry  since  my  arrival,  and  at  this  instant  am  involved  in  a 
duel,  without  the  slightest  cause  that  I can  discover,  and,  what 
is  still  worse,  without  the  aid  of  a single  friend  to  undertake 
the  requisite  negotiation  for  me.” 

“ If  my  services  can  in  any  way  assist ” 

“ Oh,  my  dear  captain,  this  is  really  so  great  a favor  that  I 
cannot  say  how  much  I thank  you.” 

“ Say  nothing  whatever,  but  rest  quite  assured  that  I am 
completely  at  your  disposal ; for  although  we  are  not  very  old 
friends,  yet  I have  heard  so  much  of  you  from  some  of  ours, 
that  I feel  as  if  we  had  been  long  acquainted.” 

This  was  an  immense  piece  of  good  fortune  to  me  ; for,  of  ah 
the  persons  I knew,  he  was  the  most  suited  to  aid  me  at  this 
moment.  In  addition  to  a thorough  knowledge  of  the  Continent 
and  its  habits,  he  spoke  French  fluently,  and  had  been  the  most 
distinguished  authority  in  the  duello  to  a large  military  acquaint* 
ance ; joining  to  a consummate  tact  and  cleverness  in  his  di- 
plomacy a temper  that  never  permitted  itself  to  be  ruffled,  and  a 
most  unexceptionable  reputation  for  courage.  In  a word,  to 
have  had  Trevanion  for  your  second  was  not  only  to  have  se- 
cured odds  in  your  favor,  but,  stifl  better?  to  have  obtained  the 


HARR  Y L ORREQUER. 


262 

certainty  that,  let  the  affair  take  what  turn  it  might,  you  were 
sure  of  coining  out  of  it  with  credit. 

He  was  the  only  man  I have  ever  met  who  had  much  mixed 
himself  in  transactions  of  this  nature,  and  yet  never,  by  any 
chance,  had  degenerated  into  the  fire-eater;  more  quiet,  un- 
assuming manners  it  was  impossible  to  meet  with,  and,  in  the 
various  anecdotes  I had  heard  of  him,  I had  always  traced  a 
degree  of  forbearance  that  men  of  less  known  bravery  might 
not  have  ventured  to  practise.  At  the  same  time,  when  once 
roused  by  anything  like  premeditated  insult — or  predetermined 
affront — he  became  almost  ungovernable,  and  it  would  be  safer 
to  beard  the  lion  in  his  den  than  cross  his  path.  Among  the 
many  stories,  and  there  were  a great  many  current  in  his  regi- 
ment^concerning  him,  there  was  one  so  singularly  characteristic 
of  the  man,  that,  as  I have  passingly  mentioned  his  name  here, 
I may  as  well  relate  it ; at  the  same  time  premising  that,  as  it  is 
well  known,  I may  only  be  repeating  an  often-heard  tale  to 
many  of  my  readers. 

When  the  regiment  to  which  Trevanion  belonged  became 
part  of  the  army  of  occupation  in  Paris,  he  was  left  at  Ver- 
sailles, seriously  ill  from  the  effects  of  a sabre-wound  he  re- 
ceived at  Waterloo,  and  from  which  his  recovery  at  first  was 
exceedingly  doubtful.  At  the  end  of  several  weeks,  however, 
he  became  out  of  danger,  and  was  able  to  receive  the  visits  of 
his  brother  officers,  whenever  they  were  fortunate  enough  to  ob- 
tain a day’s  leave  of  absence  to  run  down  and  see  him.  From 
them  he  learnt  that  one  of  his  oldest  friends  in  the  regiment  had 
fallen  in  a duel,  during  the  time  of  his  illness,  and  that  two 
other  officers  were  dangerously  wounded — one  of  whom  was 
not  expected  to  survive.  When  he  inquired  as  to  the  reasons 
of  these  many  disasters,  he  was  informed  that  since  the  entrance 
of  the  allies  into  Paris,  the  French  officers,  boiling  with  rage 
and  indignation  at  their  recent  defeat,  and  smarting  under  the 
hourly  disgrace  which  the  presence  of  their  conquerors  sug- 
gested, sought  out,  by  every  means  in  their  power,  opportuni- 
ties of  insult;  but  always  so  artfully  contrived  as  to  render  the 
opposite  party  the  challenger,  thus  reserving  to  themselves  the 
choice  of  the  weapons.  When,  therefore,  it  is  borne  in  mind 
that  the  French  are  the  most  expert  swordsmen  in  Europe,  lit- 
tle doubt  can  exist  as  to  the  issue  of  these  combats  ; and,  in  fact, 
scarcely  a morning  passed  without  three  or  four  English  or 
Prussian  officers  being  carried  through  the  Barriere  de  i’Etoile, 
if  not  dead,  at  least  seriously  wounded,  and  condemned  to  carry 
with  them  through  life  the  inflictions  of  a sanguinary  and  sav- 
age spirit  of  vengeance. 


CAPTAIN  TRE  ANION'S  ADVENTURE. 


263 


While  Trevanion  list f .ied  to  this  sad  recital — and  scarcely 
did  a day  come  without  adding  to  the  long  catalogue  of  disasters 
— he  at  once  perceived  that  the  quiet  deportment  and  unas- 
suming demeanor  which  so  strongly  characterize  the  English 
officer  were  construed  by  their  French  opponents  into  evidences 
of  want  of  courage,  and  saw  that  to  so  systematic  a plan  for 
slaughter  no  common  remedy  could  be  applied,  and  that  some 
coup  d'etat  was  absolutely  necessary  to  put  it  down  once  and 
forever. 

In  the  history  of  these  sanguinary  rencontres  one  name  was 
continually  recurring,  generally  as  the  principal,  sometimes  the 
instigator  of  the  quarrel.  This  was  an  officer  of  a chasseur  reg- 
iment, who  had  the  reputation  of  being  the  best  swordsman  in 
the  whole  French  army,  and  was  no  less  distinguished  for  his 
“ skill  at  fence  ” than  his  uncompromising  hatred  of  the  British, 
with  whom  alone,  of  all  the  allied  forces,  he  was  ever  known  to 
come  in  contact.  So  celebrated  was  the  “ Capitaine  Auguste 
Gendemar”  for  his  pursuits,  that  it  was  well  known  at  that 
time  in  Paris  that  he  was  the  president  of  a duelling  club,  as- 
sociated for  the  express  and  avowed  object  of  provoking  to  in- 
sult, and  as  certainly  dooming  to  death,  every  English  officer 
upon  whom  they  could  fasten  a quarrel. 

The  Cafe  Phillidor,  at  that  period  in  the  Rue  Vivienne,  was 
the  rendezvous  of  this  reputable  faction,  and  here  le  Capitaine 
reigned  supreme,  receiving  accounts  of  the  various  “affairs” 
which  were  transacting — counselling  and  plotting  for  the  future. 
His  ascendancy  among  his  countrymen  was  perfectly  undisputed, 
and  being  possessed  of  great  muscular  strength,  with  that  pe- 
culiar farouche  exterior,  without  which  courage  is  nothing  in 
France,  he  was  in  every  way  calculated  for  the  infamous  leader- 
ship he  assumed. 

It  was,  unfortunately,  to  this  same  cafe,  being  situated  in 
what  was  called  the  English  quarter,  that  the  officers  of  the 
43d  regiment  were  in  the  habit  of  resorting,  totally  unaware  of 
the  plots  by  which  they  were  surrounded,  and  quite  unsuspect- 
ing the  tangled  web  of  deliberate  and  cold-blooded  assassina- 
tion in  which  they  were  involved,  and  here  took  place  the  quar- 
rel, the  result  of  which  was  the  death  of  Trevanion’s  friend,  a 
young  officer  of  great  promise,  and  universally  beloved  in  his 
regiment. 

As  Trevanion  listened  to  these  accounts,  his  impatience  be- 
came daily  greater  that  his  weak  state  should  prevent  his  being 
among  his  brother  officers,  when  his  advice  and  assistance  were 
so  imperatively  required,  and  where,  amid  all  the  solicitude  for 


264 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


* s 


his  perfect  recovery,  he  could  not  but  perceive  they  ardently 
wished  for  his  presence. 

The  day  at  last  arrived,  and,  restored  to  something  like  his 
former  self,  Trevanion  once  more  appeared  in  the  mess-room 
of  his  regiment.  Amid  the  many  sincere  and  hearty  congratu- 
lations on  his  recovered  looks  were  not  a few  half-expressed 
hints  that  he  should  not  go  much  out  into  the  world,  for  some 
little  time  to  come.  To  these  friendly  admonitions  Trevanion 
replied  by  a good-humored  laugh,  and  a ready  assurance  that 
he  understood  the  intended  kindness,  and  felt  in  no  wise  dis- 
posed to  be  invalided  again.  “ In  fact,”  said  he,  “ I have  come 
up  here  to  enjoy  life  a little,  not  to  risk  it ; but  among  the  sights 
of  your  gay  capital,  I must  certainly  have  a peep  at  your  famed 
captain,  of  whom  I have  heard  too  much  not  to  feel  an  interest 
in  him.” 

Notwithstanding  the  many  objections  to  this,  made  with  a 
fiew  to  delay  his  visit  to  the  Phillidor  to  a later  period,  it  was 
at  length  agreed  that  they  should  all  repair  to  the  cafe  that  even- 
ing, but  upon  the  express  understanding  that  every  cause  of 
quarrel  should  be  strictly  avoided,  and  that  their  stay  should  be 
merely  sufficient  to  satisfy  Trevanion’s  curiosity  as  to  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  renowned  captain. 

It  was  rather  before  the  usual  hour  of  the  cafe’s  filling,  that  a 
number  of  English  officers,  among  whom  was  Trevanion,  entered 
the  salon  of  the  Phillidor  ; having  determined  not  to  attract  any 
unusual  attention,  they  broke  into  little  knots  and  parties  of 
threes  and  fours,  and  dispersed  through  the  room,  where  they 
either  sipped  their  coffee  or  played  at  dominoes,  then,  as  now, 
the  staple  resource  of  a French  cafe. 

The  clock  over  the  comptoir  struck  eight,  and,  at  the  same  in- 
stant, a waiter  made  his  appearance,  carrying  a small  table, 
which  he  placed  beside  the  fire,  and,  having  trimmed  a lamp, 
and  placed  a large  armchair  before  it,  was  about  to  withdraw, 
when  Trevanion,  whose  curiosity  was  roused  by  the  singularity 
of  these  arrangements,  determined  upon  asking  for  whose  com- 
fort they  were  intended.  The  waiter  stared  for  a moment  at 
the  question,  with  an  air  as  if  doubting  the  seriousness  of  him 
who  put  it,  and  at  last  replied,  “ Pour  Monsieur  le  Capitaine,  je 
crois ,”  with  a certain  tone  of  significance  upon  the  latter  words. 

“ Le  Capitaine  ! but  what  captain  ? ” said  he,  carelessly  ; “for 
I am  a captain,  and  that  gentleman  there — and  there,  too,  is  an- 
other,” at  the  same  instant  throwing  himself  listlessly  into  the 
well-cushioned  chair,  and  stretching  out  his  legs  at  full  length 
upon  the  hearth. 

The  look  of  horror  which  this  quiet  proceeding  on  his  part 


CAPTAIN  TRE  V ANION 'S  AD  VENTURE.  265 

elicited  from  the  poor  waiter,  so  astonished  Trevanion,  that  he 
could  not  help  saying, — “ Is  there  anything  the  matter  with  you, 
my  friend  ? Are  you  ill  ? ” 

“ No,  monsieur,  not  ill ; nothing  the  matter  with  me  ; but  you, 
sir,  oh,  you,  sir,  pray  come  away.” 

“#<?/”  said  Trevanion — “me!  why,  my  good  man,  I was 
never  better  in  my  life  ; so  now  just  bring  me  my  coffee  and  the 
Moniteur , if  you  have  it ; there,  don’t  stare  that  way,  but  do  as 
I bid  you.” 

There  was  something  in  the  assured  tone  of  these  few  words 
that  either  overawed  or  repressed  every  rising  feeling  of  the 
waiter  for  his  interrogator  ; for,  silently  handing  his  coffee  and 
the  newspaper,  he  left  the  room  ; not,  however,  without  bestow- 
ing a parting  glance  so  full  of  terror  and  dismay  that  our  friend 
was  obliged  to  smile  at  it.  All  this  was  the  work  of  a few  min- 
utes, and  not  until  the  noise  of  arrivals  had  attracted  the  atten- 
tion of  his  brother  officers,  did  they  perceive  where  he  had  in- 
stalled himself,  and  to  what  danger  he  was  thus,  as  they  sup- 
posed, unwittingly  exposed. 

In  perfect  misery  at  what  they  conceived  their  own  fault,  in 
not  apprising  him  of  the  sacred  character  of  that  place,  they 
stood  silently  looking  at  him  as  he  continued  to  sip  his  coffee, 
apparently  unconscious  of  everything  and  person  about  him. 

It  was  now,  however,  too  late  for  remonstrance  ; for  already 
several  French  officers  had  noticed  the  circumstance,  and  by 
their  interchange  of  looks  and  signs,  openly  evinced  their  sat- 
isfaction at  it,  and  their  delight  at  the  catastrophe  which  seemed 
inevitable  to  the  luckless  Englishman. 

There  was  now  a more  than  ordinary  silence  in  the  cafd, 
which  at  all  times  was  remarkable  for  the  quiet  and  noiseless 
demeanor  of  its  frequenters,  when  the  door  was  flung  open  by 
the  ready  waiter,  and  the  Capitaine  Auguste  Gendemar  entered. 
He  was  a large,  squarely-built  man,  with  a most  savage  expres> 
sion  of  countenance,  which  a bushy  beard  and  shaggy  ove^ 
hanging  moustache  served  successfully  to  assist ; his  eyes  were 
shaded  by  deep,  projecting  brows,  and  long  eyebrows  slanting 
over  them,  and  increasing  their  look  of  piercing  sharpness ; 
there  was  in  his  whole  air  and  demeanor  that  certain  French 
air  of  swaggering  bullyism  which  ever  remained  in  those  who, 
having  risen  from  the  ranks,  maintained  the  look  of  ruffianly 
defiance  which  gave  their  early  character  for  courage  its  pecul- 
iar merit. 

To  the  friendly  salutations  of  his  countrymen  he  returned  the 
slightest  and  coldest  acknowledgments,  throwing  a glance  of 
disdain  around  him  as  he  wended  his  way  to  his  accustomed 


266 


HARR  V L ORREQUER . 


place  beside  the  fire ; this  he  did  with  as  much  of  noise  and 
swagger  as  he  could  well  contrive  ; his  sabre  and  sabre-tasche 
clanking  behind,  his  spurs  jangling,  and  his  heavy  step,  made 
purposely  heavier  to  draw  upon  him  the  notice  and  attention  he 
sought  for.  Trevamon  alone  testified  no  consciousness  of  his  en- 
trance and  appeared  totally  engrossed  by  the  columns  of  his  news- 
paper, from  which  he  never  lifted  his  eyes  for  an  instant.  Le 
Capitaine  at  length  reached  the  fireplace,  when,  no  sooner  did 
he  behold  his  accustomed  seat  in  the  possession  of  another, 
than  he  absolutely  started  back  with  surprise  and  anger. 

What  might  have  been  his  first  impulse  it  is  hard  to  say,  for, 
as  the  blood  rushed  to  his  face  and  forehead,  he  clenched  his 
hands  firmly,  and  seemed  for  an  instant,  as  he  eyed  the  stranger, 
like  a tiger  about  to  spring  upon  its  victim  ; this  was  but  for  a 
second,  for  turning  rapidly  round  towards  his  friends,  he  gave 
them  a look  of  peculiar  meaning,  showing  two  rows  of  white 
teeth,  with  a grin  which  seemed  to  say,  “ I have  taken  my  line  ; ” 
and  he  had  done  so.  He  now  ordered  the  waiter,  in  a voice  of 
thunder,  to  bring  him  a chair.  This  he  took  roughly  from  him 
and  placed,  with  a crash,  upon  the  floor,  exactly  opposite  that 
of  Trevanion,  and  still  so  near  as  scarcely  to  permit  of  his  sit- 
ting down  upon  it.  The  noisy  vehemence  of  this  action  at  last 
appeared  to  have  roused  Trevanion’s  attention,  for  he  now,  for 
the  first  time,  looked  up  from  his  paper,  and  quietly  regarded 
his  vis-a-vis.  There  could  not  in  the  world  be  a stronger  con- 
trast to  the  bland  look  and  courteous  expression  of  Trevanion’s 
handsome  features,  than  the  savage  scowl  of  the  enraged 
Frenchman,  in  whose  face  the  strong  and  ill-repressed  workings 
of  passion  were  twitching  and  distorting  every  lineament  and 
line  ; indeed  no  words  could  ever  convey  half  so  forcibly  as  did 
that  look,  insult — open,  palpable,  deep,  determined  insult ! 

Trevanion,  whose  eyes  had  been  merely  for  a moment  lifted 
from  his  paper,  again  fell,  and  he  appeared  to  take  no  notice 
whatever  of  the  extraordinary  proximity  of  the  Frenchman,  still 
less  of  the  savage  and  insulting  character  of  his  looks. 

Le  Capitaine,  having  thus  failed  to  bring  on  the  explanation 
he  sought  for,  proceeded  to  accomplish  it  by  other  means  ; for, 
taking  the  lamp,  by  the  light  of  which  Trevanion  was  still  read- 
ing, he  placed  it  at  his  side  of  the  table,  and  at  the  same  instant 
stretching  across  his  arm,  he  plucked  the  newspaper  from  his 
hand,  giving  at  the  same  moment  a glance  of  triumph  towards 
the  bystanders,  as  though  he  would  say,  “ You  see  what  he  must 
submit  to.”  Words  cannot  describe  the  astonishment  of  the 
British  officers,  as  they  beheld  Trevanion,  under  this  gross  and 
open  insult,  content  himself  by  a slight  smile  and  half  bow,  as 


CAPTAIN  TRE V ANIONS  ADVENTURE. 


267 


if  returning  a courtesy,  and  then  throw  his  eyes  downwards,  as 
if  engaged  in  deep  thought,  while  the  triumphant  sneer  of  the 
French,  at  this  unaccountable  conduct,  was  absolutely  madden- 
ing to  them  to  endure. 

But  their  patience  was  destined  to  submit  to  stronger  proof, 
for  at  this  instant  le  Capitaine  stretched  forth  one  enormous 
leg,  cased  in  his  massive  jack-boot,  and  with  a crash  deposited 
the  heel  upon  the  foot  of  their  friend  Trevanion.  At  length  he 
is  roused,  thought  they,  for  a slight  flush  of  crimson  flitted  across 
his  cheek,  and  his  upper  lip  trembled  with  a quick  spasmodic 
twitching ; but  both  these  signs  were  over  in  a second,  and  his 
features  were  as  calm  and  unmoved  as  before,  and  his  only  ap- 
pearance of  consciousness  of  the  affront  was  given  by  his  draw- 
ing back  his  chair  and  placing  his  legs  beneath  it,  as  if  for  pro- 
tection. 

This  last  insult,  and  the  tame  forbearance  with  which  it  was 
submitted  to,  produced  all  their  opposite  effects  upon  the  by- 
standers, and  looks  of  ungovernable  rage  and  derisive  contempt 
were  every  moment  interchanging ; indeed,  were  it  not  for  the 
all-absorbing  interest  which  the  two  great  actors  in  the  scene 
had  concentrated  upon  themselves,  the  two  parties  must  have 
come  at  once  into  open  conflict. 

The  clock  of  the  cafe  struck  nine,  the  hour  at  which  Gende- 
mar  always  retired,  so  calling  to  the  waiter  for  his  glass  of 
brandy,  he  placed  his  newspaper  upon  the  table,  and  putting 
both  his  elbows  upon  it,  and  his  chin  upon  his  hands,  he  stared 
full  in  Trevanion’s  face,  with  a look  of  the  most  derisive  triumph, 
meant  to  crown  the  achievement  of  the  evening.  To  this,  as  to 
all  his  former  insults,  Trevanion  appeared  still  insensible,  and 
merely  regarded  him  with  his  never-changing  half  smile ; the 
brandy  arrived ; Le  Capitaine  took  it  in  his  hand,  and  with  a 
nod  of  most  insulting  familiarity,  saluted  Trevanion,  adding 
with  a loud  voice,  so  as  to  be  heard  on  every  side — “ A votre 
courage,  Anglais.”  He  had  scarcely  swallowed  the  liquor,  when 
Trevanion  rose  slowly  from  his  chair,  displaying  to  the  aston- 
ished gaze  of  the  Frenchman  the  immense  proportions  and  gi- 
gantic frame  of  a man  well-known  as  the  largest  officer  in  the 
British  army;  with  one  stride  he  was  beside  the  chair  of  the 
Frenchman,  and  with  the  speed  of  lightning  he  seized  his  nose 
by  one  hand,  while  with  the  other  he  grasped  his  lower  jaw, 
and,  wrenching  open  his  mouth  with  the  strength  of  an  ogre,  he 
spat  down  his  throat. 

So  sudden  was  the  movement,  that  before  ten  seconds  had 
elapsed,  all  was  over,  and  the  Frenchman  rushed  from  the 
room,  holding  the  fragments  of  his  Hw-bone  Tor  it  was  fract- 


HARRY  LORREQUER . 


ured !),  and  followed  by  his  countrymen,  who,  from  that  hour, 
deserted  the  Cafe  Phillidor ; nor  was  there  ever  any  mention 
of  the  famous  captain  during  the  stay  of  the  regiment  in 
Paris. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

DIFFICULTIES. 

While  we  walked  together  towards  Meurice’s,  I explained  to 
Trevanion  the  position  in  which  I stood ; and  having  detailed, 
at  full  length,  the  row  at  the  salon,  and  the  imprisonment  of 
O’Leary,  entreated  his  assistance  in  behalf  of  him,  as  well  as  to 
free  me  from  some  of  my  many  embarrassments. 

It  was  strange  enough — though  at  first  so  pre-occupied  was 
I with  other  thoughts,  that  I paid  but  little  attention  to  it — that 
no  part  of  my  eventful  evening  seemed  to  make  so  strong  an 
impression  on  him  as  my  mention  of  having  seen  my  cousin 
Guy,  and  heard  from  him  of  the  death  of  my  uncle.  At  this 
portion  of  my  story  he  smiled,  with  so  much  significance  of 
meaning,  that  I could  not  help  asking  his  reason. 

“ It  is  always  an  unpleasant  task,  Mr.  Lorrequer,  to  speak  in 
any  way,  however  delicately,  in  a tone  of  disparagement  of  a 
man’s  relative;  and  therefore,  as  we  are  not  long  enough  ac- 
quainted  ” 

“But  pray,”  said  I,  “waive  that  consideration,  -and  only  re- 
member the  position  in  which  I now  am.  If  you  know  anything 
of  this  business,  I entreat  you  to  tell  me — I promise  to  take 
whatever  you  may  be  disposed  to  communicate,  in  the  same 
good  part  it  is  intended.” 

“ Well,  then,  I believe  you  are  right ; but  first,  let  me  ask 
you,  how  do  you  know  of  your  uncle’s  death;  for  I have  reason 
to  doubt  it  ? ” 

“ From  Guy  ; he  told  me  himself.” 

“ When  did  you  see  him,  and  where  ? ” 

“ Why,  I have  just  told  you  ; I saw  him  last  night  at  the  salon  ” 

“And  you  could  not  be  mistaken  ? ” 

“ Impossible  ! Besides,  he  wrote  to  me  a note  which  I re- 
ceived this  morning — here  it  is.” 

“ Hem — ha.  Well,  are  you  satisfied  that  it  is  his  hand-writ- 
ing,” said  Trevanion,  as  he  perused  the  note  slowly  twice  over. 

“ Why,  of  course — but  stop — you  are  right ; it  is  not  his 
hand,  nor  do  I know  the  writing,  now  that  you  direct  my 


DIFFICUL  TIES . 


269 


attention  to  it.  But  what  can  that  mean?  You,  surely,  do 
not  suppose  that  I have  mistaken  any  one  for  him  ; for,  in- 
dependent of  all  else,  his  knowledge  of  my  family,  and  my 
uncle’s  affairs,  would  quite  disprove  that.” 

“This  is  really  a complex  affair,”  said  Trevanion,  musingly. 
“ How  long  may  it  be  since  you  saw  your  cousin — before  last 
night,  I mean  ? ” 

“Several  years;  above  six,  certainly.” 

“ Oh,  it  is  quite  possible,  then,”  said  Trevanion,  musingly ; 
“ do  you  know,  Mr.  Lorrequer,  this  affair  seems  more  puzzling 
to  me  than  to  you,  and  for  this  plain  reason — I am  disposed  to 
think  you  never  saw  your  cousin  last  night.” 

“ Why,  confound  it,  there  is  one  circumstance  that  I think 
may  satisfy  you  on  that  head.  You  will  not  deny  that  I saw 
some  one,  who  very  much  resembled  him  ; and,  certainly,  as 
he  lent  me  above  three  thousand  francs  to  play  with  at  the 
table,  it  looks  rather  more  like  his  act  than  that  of  a perfect 
stranger.” 

“ Have  you  got  the  money  ? ” asked  Trevanion,  dryly. 

“Yes,”  said  I;  “but  certainly  you  are  the  most  unbelieving 
of  mortals,  and  I am  quite  happy  that  I have  yet  in  my  pos- 
session two  of  the  billets  de  banque , for,  I suppose,  without  them, 
you  would  scarcely  credit  me.”  I here  opened  my  pocket-book, 
and  produced  the  notes. 

He  took  them,  examined  them  attentively  for  an  instant,  held 
them  between  him  and  the  light,  refolded  them,  and,  having 
placed  them  in  my  pocket-book,  said,  “ I thought  as  much — they 
are  forgeries.” 

“ Hold  ! ” said  I ; “my  cousin  Guy,  whatever  wildness  he 
may  have  committed,  is  yet  totally  incapable  of ” 

“I  never  said  the  contrary,”  replied  Trevanion,  in  the  same 
dry  tone  as  before. 

“ Then  what  can  you  mean,  for  1 see  no  alternative  between 
that  and  totally  discrediting  the  evidence  of  my  senses  ? ” 

“ Perhaps  I can  suggest  a middle  course,”  said  Trevanion ; 
“ lend  me,  therefore,  a patient  hearing  for  a few  moments,  and 
I may  be  able  to  throw  some  light  upon  this  difficult  matter. 
You  may  never  have  heard  that  there  is,  in  this  same  city  of 
Paris,  a person  so  extremely  like  your  cousin  Guy,  that  his  most 
intimate  friends  have  daily  mistaken  one  for  the  other,  and  this 
mistake  has  the  more  often  been  made  from  the  circumstances 
of  their  both  being  in  the  habit  of  frequenting  the  same  class  in 
society,  where,  knowing  and  walking  with  the  same  people,  the 
difficulty  of  discriminating  has  been  greatly  increased.  This 
individual,  who  has  too  many  aliases  for  one  to  know  which  to 


270 


BARRY  LORREQUER . 


particularize  him  by,  is  one  of  that  numerous  order  of  beings 
which  a high  state  of  civilization  is  always  engendering  and 
throwing  up  on  the  surface  of  society ; he  is  a man  of  low  birth 
and  mean  connections,  but  gifted  with  most  taking  manners  and 
an  unexceptional  address  and  appearance.  These  advantages, 
and  the  possession  of  apparently  independent  means,  have 
opened  to  him  the  access  to  a certain  set  of  people,  who  are 
well  known  and  well  received  in  society,  and  obtained  for  him, 
what  he  prizes  much  more,  the  admission  into  several  clubs 
where  high  play  is  carried  on.  In  this  mixed  assemblage, 
which  sporting  habits  and  gambling  (that  grand  leveller  of  all 
distinctions)  .have  brought  together,  this  man  and  your  cousin 
Guy  met  frequently,  and,  from  the  constant  allusion  to  the 
wonderful  resemblance  between  them,  your  eccentric  cousin, 
who,  I must  say,  was  never  too  select  in  his  acquaintances, 
frequently  amused  himself  by  practical  jokes  upon  his  friends, 
which  served  still  more  to  nurture  the  intimacy  between  them ; 
and,  from  this  habit,  Mr.  Dudley  More  wood,  for  such  is  his 
latest  patronymic,  must  have  enjoyed  frequent  opportunities 
of  hearing  much  of  your  family  and  relations,  a species  of 
information  he  never  neglected,  though  at  the  moment  it 
might  appear  not  so  immediately  applicable  to  his  purposes. 
Now,  this  man,  who  knows  of  every  new  English  arrival  in 
Paris,  with  as  much  certainty  as  the  police  itself,  would  at 
once  be  aware  of  your  being  here,  and  having  learned 
from  Guy  how  little  intercourse  there  had  been  of  late  years 
between  yon,  would  not  let  slip  an  opportunity  of  availing 
himself  of  the  likeness  if  anything  could  thereby  turn  to  his 
profit.’’ 

“ Stop  ! ” cried  I ; “ you  have  opened  my  eyes  completely, 
for  now  I remember  that,  as  I continued  to  win  last  night,  this 
man,  who  was  playing  hazard  at  another  table,  constantly 
borrowed  from  me,  but  always  in  gold,  invariably  refusing  the 
bank-notes  as  too  high  for  his  game.” 

“ There  his  object  was  clear  enough  ; for,  besides  obtaining 
your  gold,  he  made  you  the  means  of  disseminating  his  false 
billets  de  banqueE 

“ So  that  I have  been  actually  playing  and  winning  upon  this 
fellow’s  forgeries,”  said  I ; “ and  am  perhaps  at  this  very  in- 
stant inscribed  in  the  Livre  noir  of  the  police  as  a most  ac- 
complished swindler ; but  what  could  be  the  intention  of  his 
note  this  morning  ? ” 

“As  to  that,”  said  Trevanion,  “ it  is  hard  to  say;  one  thing 
you  may  assuredly  rely  upon — it  is  not  an  unnecessary  epistle, 
whatever  be  its  object ; he  never  wastes  his  powder  when  the 


DIFFICULTIES. 


271 


game  flies  too  high  ; so  we  must  only  wait  patiently  for  the  ui> 
ravelment  of  his  plans,  satisfied  that  we,  at  least,  know  some^ 
thing.  What  most  surprises  me  is,  his  venturing,  at  present,  to 
appear  in  public  ; for  it  is  noc  above  two  months  since  an  esca- 
pade of  his  attracted  so  much  attention  in  the  play  world  here, 
that  he  was  obliged  to  leave,  and  it  was  supposed  that  he  would 
never  return  to  Paris.” 

“ One  piece  of  good  fortune  there  is  at  least,”  said  I,  “ which, 
I can  safely  say,  repays  me  for  any  and  all  the  annoyance  this 
unhappy  affair  may  cause  me  ; it  is,  that  my  poor  old  uncle  is 
still  alive  and  well.  Not  all  my  anticipated  pleasures,  in  newly 
acquired  wealth,  could  have  afforded  me  the  same  gratification 
that  this  fact  does,  for,  although  never  so  much  his  favorite  as 
my  cousin,  yet  the  sense  of  protection — the  feeling  of  confidence, 
which  is  inseparable  from  the  degree  of  relationship  between 
us — standing,  as  he  has  ever  done,  in  the  light  of  a father  to 
me,  is  infinitely  more  pleasurable  than  the  possession  of  riches, 
which  must  ever  suggest  to  me  the  recollection  of  a kind  friend 
lost  to  me  forever.  But  so  many  thoughts  press  on  me — so 
many  effects  of  this  affair  are  staring  me  in  the  face — I really 
know  not  which  way  to  turn,  nor  can  I even  collect  my  ideas 
sufficiently  to  determine  what  is  first  to  be  done.” 

“ Leave  all  that  to  me,”  said  Trevanion  ; “ it  is  a tangled  web, 
but  I think  I can  unravel  it ; meanwhile,  where  does  the  captain 
reside  ? for,  among  all  your  pressing  engagements,  this  affair 
with  the  Frenchman  must  come  off  first;  and  for  this  reason, 
although  you  are  not  really  obliged  to  give  him  satisfaction,  by 
his  merely  producing  your  card,  and  insisting  that  you  are  to  be 
responsible  for  the  misdeeds  of  any  one  who  might  show  it  as 
his  own  address,  yet  I look  upon  it  as  a most  fortunate  thing, 
while  charges  so  heavy  may  be  at  this  moment  hanging  over 
your  head,  as  the  proceedings  of  last  night  involve,  that  you 
have  a public  opportunity  of  meeting  an  antagonist  in  the  field 
— thereby  evincing  no  fear  of  publicity,  nor  any  intention  of  ab- 
sconding ; for  be  assured  that  the  police  are  at  this  moment  in 
possession  of  what  has  occurred,  and  from  the  fracas  which  fol- 
lowed, are  well  disposed  to  regard  the  whole  as  a concerted 
scheme  to  seize  upon  the  property  of  the  banquey  a not  uncom- 
mon wind-up  here  when  luck  fails.  My  advice  is,  therefore, 
meet  the  man  at  once  ; I shall  take  care  that  the  Prefect  is  in- 
formed that  you  have  been  imposed  upon  by  a person  passing 
kimself  off  as  your  relative,  and  enter  bail  for  your  appearances 
whenever  you  are  called  npon  ; that  being  done,  we  shall  have 
time  for  a moment’s  respite  to  look  around  us,  and  consider  the 
other  bearings  of  this  difficult  business/7 


272 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


“ Here,  then,  is  the  card  of  address,”  said  I ; “ Eugene  de 
Joncourt,  Capitaine  de  Cavalerie,  No.  8,  Chaussee  d’Antin.” 

“ De  Joncourt!  why,  confound  it,  this  is  not  so  pleasant  ; he 
is  about  the  best  shot  in  Paris,  and  a very  steady  swordsman 
besides.  I don’t  like  this.” 

“ But  you  forget  he  is  the  friend,  not  the  principal  here.” 

“ The  more  good  fortune  yours,”  said  Trevanion,  drily ; “ for  I 
acknowledge  I should  not  give  much  for  your  chance  at  twenty 
paces  opposite  his  pistol ; then,  who  is  the  other  ? ” 

“Le  Baron  d’Haulpenne,”  said  I,  “ and  his  name  is  all  that 
I know  of  him  ; his  very  appearance  is  unknown  to  me.” 

“ I believe  I am  acquainted  with  him,” said  Trevanion  ; “but 
here  we  are  at  Meurice’s.  Now  I shall  just  write  a few  lines  to 
a legal  friend,  who  will  manage  to  liberate  Mr.  O’Leary,  whose 
services  we  shall  need — two  persons  are  usual  on  each  side  in 
this  country— and  then,  ‘to  business.’  ” 

The  note  written  and  despatched,  Trevanion  jumped  into  a 
cab,  and  set  cut  for  the  Chaussee  d’Antin ; leaving  me  to  think 
over,  as  well  as  I could,  the  mass  of  trouble  and  confusion  in 
which  twenty-four  hours  of  life  in  Paris  had  involved  me. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

EXPLANATION. 

It  was  past  seven  o’clock  when  Trevanion  made  his  appear- 
ance, accompanied  by  O’Leary ; and  having  in  a few  words  in- 
formed me  that  a meeting  was  fixed  for  the  following  morning 
near  St.  Cloud,  proposed  that  we  should  at  once  go  to  dinner  at 
Very’s,  after  which  we  should  have  plenty  of  time  to  discuss  the 
various  steps  to  be  taken.  As  we  were  leaving  the  hotel  for  this 
purpose,  a waiter  requested  of  me  to  permit  Mr.  Meurice  to 
speak  a few  words  to  me ; which,  having  agreed  to,  I entered 
the  little  bureau  where  this  Czar  of  Hotels  sits  enthroned,  and 
what  was  my  surprise  to  learn  the  request  he  had  to  prefer  was 
nothing  less  than  that  I would  so  far  oblige  him  as  to  vacate  the 
apartment  I possessed  in  the  hotel,  adding  that  my  compliance 
would  confer  upon  him  the  power  to  accommodate  a “ Milord,” 
who  had  written  for  apartments,  and  was  coming  with  a large 
suite  of  servants.  Suspecting  that  some  rumor  of  the  late  af- 
fair at  Frascati’s  might  have  influenced  my  friend  Meurice  in 
this  unusual  demand,  I abruptly  refused,  and  was  about  to  turn 
away,  when  he,  perhaps,  guessing  that  I had  not  believed  hi§ 


EXPLAN  A TION. 


2 73 


statements,  handed  me  an  open  letter,  saying,  “ You  see,  sir, 
this  is  the  letter ; and,  as  I am  so  pressed  for  spare  room,  I 
must  now  refuse  the  writer.” 

As  my  eye  glanced  at  the  writing,  I started  back  with  amaze- 
ment to  perceive  it  was  in  my  cousin  Guy’s  hand,  requesting 
that  apartments  might  be  retained  for  Sir  Guy  Lorrequer,  my 
uncle,  who  was  to  arrive  in  Paris  by  the  end  of  the  week.  If 
any  doubt  had  remained  on  my  mind  as  to  the  deception  I had 
been  duped  by,  this  would  completely  have  dispelled  it,  but  I 
had  long  before  been  convinced  of  the  trick,  and  only  wondered 
how  the  false  Guy — Mr.  Dudley  Morewood — had  contrived  to 
present  himself  to  me  so  opportunely,  and  by  what  means,  in  so 
short  a space  of  time,  he  had  become  acquainted  with  my  per- 
sonal appearance. 

As  I mentioned  this  circumstance  oE  the  letter  to  Trevanion, 
he  could  not  conceal  his  satisfaction  at  his  sagacity  in  unravel- 
ling the  mystery,  while  this  new  intelligence  confirmed  the  just- 
ness and  accuracy  of  all  his  explanations. 

As  we  walked  along  towards  the  Palais  Royal,  Trevanion  en- 
deavored, not  very  successfully,  to  explain  to  my  friend  O’Leary 
the  nature  of  the  trick  which  had  been  practised,  promising,  at 
another  time,  some  revelations  concerning  the  accomplished  in- 
dividual who  had  planned  it,  which  in  boldness  and  daring 
eclipsed  even  this. 

Any  one  who  in  waking  has  had  the  confused  memory  of  a 
dream  in  which  events  have  been  so  mingled  and  mixed  as  to 
present  no  uniform  narrative,  but  only  amass  of  strange  and  in- 
congruous occurrences,  without  object  or  connection,  may  form 
some  notion  of  the  state  of  restless  excitement  my  brain  suffered 
from,  as  the  many  and  conflicting  ideas  my  late  adventures  sug- 
gested, presented  themselves  to  my  mind  in  rapid  succession. 

The  glare,  the  noise,  and  the  clatter  of  a French  cafe  are  cer- 
tainly not  the  agents  most  in  request  for  restoring  a man  to  the 
enjoyment  of  his  erring  faculties  ; and,  if  I felt  addled  and  con- 
fused before,  I had  scarcely  passed  the  threshold  of  Very’s  when 
I became  absolutely  like  one  in  a trance.  The  large  salon  was 
more  than  usually  crowded,  and  it  was  with  difficulty  that  we  ob- 
tained a place  at  a table  where  some  other  English  were  seated, 
among  whom  I recognized  my  lately  made  acquaintance,  Mr. 
Edward  Bingham. 

Excepting  a cup  of  coffee,  I had  taken  nothing  the  entire  day, 
and  so  completely  did  my  anxieties  of  different  kinds  subdue  all 
appetite,  that  the  most  exquisite  viands  of  this  well-known  res- 
taurant did  not  in  the  least  tempt  me.  The  champagne  alone 
had  any  attraction  for  me  ; and,  seduced  by  the  icy  coldness  of 


274 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


the  wine,  I drank  copiously.  This  was  all  that  was  wanting  to 
complete  the  maddening  confusion  of  my  brain,  and  the  effect 
was  instantaneous  ; the  lights  danced  before  my  eyes  ; the  lustres 
whirled  round  : and,  as  the  scattered  fragments  of  conversations 
on  either  side  met  my  ear,  I was  able  to  form  some  not  very  in- 
accurate conception  of  what  insanity  might  be.  Politics  and  lit- 
erature, Mexican  bonds  and  Noblet’s  legs,  Pates  de  perdreaux 
and  the  quarantine  laws,  the  extreme  gauche  and  the  Roulette , 
Victor  Hugo  and  Rouge  et  Noir , had  formed  a species  of  grand 
ballet  d) action  in  my  fevered  brain,  and  I was  perfectly  beside 
myself ; occasionally,  too,  I would  revert  to  my  own  concerns, 
although  I was  scarcely  able  to  follow  up  any  train  of  thought 
for  more  than  a few  seconds  together,  and  totally  inadequate  to 
distinguish  the  false  from  the  true.  I continued  to  confound 
the  counterfeit  with  my  cousin,  and  wonder  how  my  poor  uncle, 
for  whom  I was  about  to  put  on  the  deepest  mourning,  could 
possibly  think  of  driving  me  out  of  my  lodgings.  Of  my  duel 
for  the  morning  I had  the  most  shadowy  recollection,  and  could 
not  perfectly*comprehend  whether  it  was  O’Leary  or  myself  was 
the  principal,  and,  indeed,  cared  but  little.  In  this  happy  state 
of  independent  existence  I must  have  passed  a considerable 
time,  and  as  my  total  silence  when  spoken  to,  or  my  irrelevant 
answers,  appeared  to  have  tired  out  my  companions,  they  left 
me  to  the  uninterrupted  enjoyment  of  my  own  pleasant  imagin- 
ings. 

“ Do  you  hear,  Lorrequer,”  at  last  said  Trevanion  ; “ are  you 
asleep,  my  dear  friend  ? This  gentleman  has  been  good  enough 
to  invite  us  to  breakfast  to-morrow  at  St.  Cloud.” 

I looked  up,  and  was  just  able  to  recognize  the  well-trimmed 
mustachio  of  Mr.  Edward  Bingham,  as  he  stood  mumbling  some- 
thing before  me.  “ St.  Cloud — what  of  St.  Cloud  ? ” said  I. 

“ We  have  something  in  that  quarter  to-morrow.” 

“What  is  it,  O’Leary  ? Can  we  go  ? ” 

“ Oh  ! certainly.  Our  engagement  is  an  early  one.” 

“ We  shall  accept  your  polite  invitation  with  pleasure ” 

Here  he  stooped  over,  and  whispered  something  in  my  ear ; 
what,  I cannot  say;  but  I know  that  my  reply,.  now  equally  lost 
to  me,  produced  a hearty  fit  of  laughing  to  my  two  friends. 

My  next  recollection  is,  finding  myself  in  a crowded  box  at 
the  theatre.  It  seems  that  O’Leary  had  acceded  to  a proposal 
from  some  of  the  other  party  to  accompany  them  to  the  Porte 
St.  Martin,  where  Mrs.  Bingham  and  her  daughter  had  engaged 
a box.  Amid  all  the  confusion  which  troubled  thoughts  and 
wine  produced  in  me,  I could  not  help  perceiving  a studied 
politeness  and  attention  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Edward  Bingham 


EXPLANA  TION. 


275 


towards  me  ; and  my  first  sobering  reflection  came,  on  finding 
that  a place  was  reserved  for  me  beside  Miss  Bingham,  into 
which,  by  some  contrivance  I can  in  no  wise  explain,  I found 
myself  almost  immediately  installed.  To  all  the  excitement  of 
cheunpagne  and  punch,  let  the  attractions  of  a French  ballet  be 
added,  and  with  a singular  pretty  companion  at  your  side,  to 
whom  you  have  already  made  sufficient  advances  to  be  aware 
that  you  are  no  longer  indifferent  to  her,  and  I venture  to  pre- 
dict that  it  is  much  more  likely  your  conversation  will  incline  to 
flirting  than  political  economy ; and,  moreover,  that  you  make 
more  progress  during  the  performance  of  one  single  pas  de  deux 
upon  the  stage,  than  you  have  hitherto  done  in  ten  morning 
calls,  with  an  unexceptionable  whisker,  and  the  best  fitting 
gloves  in  Paris.  Alas ! alas  ! it  is  only  the  rich  man  that  ever 
wins  at  rouge  et  noir.  The  well-insured  Indiaman,  with  her 
cargo  of  millions,  comes  safe  into  port ; while  the  whole  vent- 
ure of  some  hardy  veteran  of  the  wave  founders  within  sight  of 
his  native  shore.  So  is  it  ever  ; where  success  would  be  all  and 
everything,  it  never  comes  ; but  only  be  indifferent  or  regardless, 
and  fortune  is  at  your  feet,  suing  and  imploring  your  acceptance 
of  her  favors.  What  would  I not  have  given  for  one  half  of 
that  solicitude  now  so  kindly  expressed  in  my  favor  by  Miss 
Bingham,  if  syllabled  by  the  lips  of  Lady  Jane  Callonby  ! How 
would  my  heart  have  throbbed  for  one  light  smile  from  one, 
while  I ungratefully  basked  in  the  openly  avowed  preference  of 
the  other  ! These  were  my  first  thoughts — what  were  the  suc- 
ceeding ones  ? 

“ E lie  est  tres  bien /”  said  a Frenchwoman,  turning  round  in 
the  box  next  to  us,  and  directing  at  the  same  moment  the  eyes 
of  a mustachioed  hero  upon  my  fair  companion. 

What  a turn  to  my  thoughts  did  this  unexpected  ejaculation 
give  rise  to  ! I now  began  to  consider  her  more  attentively, 
and  certainly  concurred  fully  in  the  Frenchwoman’s  verdict.  I 
had  never  seen  her  look  half  so  well  before.  The  great  fault  in 
her  features,  which  were  most  classically  regular,  lay  in  the  mo- 
notony and  uniform  character  of  their  expression.  Now  this 
was  quite  changed.  Her  cheek  was  slightly  flushed,  and  her 
eyes  more  brilliant  than  ever:  while  her  slightly  parted  lips 
gave  a degree  of  speaking  earnestness  to  her  expression,  that 
made  her  perfectly  beautiful. 

Whether  it  was  from  this  cause  I cannot  say,  but  I certainly 
never  felt  so  suddenly  decided  in  my  life  from  one  course  to  its 
very  opposite,  as  I now  did  to  pay  attention  to  my  lovely  com- 
panion. And  here,  I fear,  I must  acknowledge,  in  the  honesty 
of  these  confessional  details,  . vanity  had  also  its  share  in 


276 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


the  decision.  To  be  the  admitted  and  preferred  suitor  of  the 
prettiest  woman  in  company,  is  generally  a strong  inducement 
to  fall  desperately  in  love  with  her,  independently  of  other 
temptations  for  so  doing. 

How  far  my  successes  tallied  with  my  good  intentions  in  this 
respect,  I cannot  no\V  say.  I only  remember,  that  more  than 
once  O’Leary  whispered  to  me  something  like  a caution  of  some 
sort  or  other  ; but  Emily’s  encouraging  smiles  and  still  more  en- 
couraging speeches,  had  far  more  effect  upon  me  than  all  the 
eloquence  of  the  united  service,  had  it  been  engaged  in  my  be- 
half, would  have  effected.  Mrs.  Bingham,  too — who,  to  do  her 
justice,  seemed  but  little  cognizant  of  our  proceedings — from 
time  to  time  evinced  that  species  of  motherly  satisfaction  which 
very  young  men  rejoice  much  in,  and  older  ones  are  considera- 
bly alarmed  at. 

The  play  over,  O’Leary  charged  himself  with  the  protection 
of  madam,  while  I enveloped  Emily  in  her  shawl,  and  drew  her 
arm  within  my  own.  What  my  hand  had  to  do  with  hers  I 
knew  not ; it  remains  one  of  the  unexplained  difficulties  of  that 
eventful  evening.  I have,  it  is  true,  a hazy  recollection  of  press- 
ing some  very  taper  and  delicately-formed  finger ; and  remem- 
ber, too,  the  pain  I felt  next  morning  on  awaking,  by  the  press- 
ure of  a too  tight  ring,  which  had,  by  some  strange  accident, 
found  its  way  to  my  finger,  for  which  its  size  was  but  ill  adapted. 

“ You  will  join  us  at  supper,  I hope,”  said  Mrs.  Bingham,  as 
Trevanion  handed  her  to  her  carriage.  “ Mr.  Lorrequer,  Mr. 
O’Leary,  we  shall  expect  you.” 

I was  about  to  promise  to  do  so,  when  Trevanion  suddenly 
interrupted  me,  saying  that  he  had  already  accepted  an  invita- 
tion, which  would,  unfortunately,  prevent  us  ; and  having  hastily 
wished  the  ladies  good-night,  hurried  me  away  so  abruptly,  that 
I had  not  a moment  given  for  even  one  parting  look  at  the  fair 
Emily. 

“ Why,  Trevanion,”  said  I,  “ what  invitation  are  you  dreaming 
of  ? I,  for  one,  should  have  been  delighted  to  have  gone  home 
with  the  Binghams.” 

“ So  I perceived,”  said  Trevanion,  gravely  ; “ and  it  was  for 
that  precise  reason  I so  firmly  refused  what,  individually,  I 
might  have  been  most  happy  to  accept.” 

“ Then  pray  have  the  goodness  to  explain ” 

“ It  is  easily  done.  You  have  already,  in  recounting  your 
manifold  embarrassments,  told  me  enough  of  these  people,  to 
let  me  see  that  they  intend  you  should  marry  among  them  ; and, 
indeed,  you  have  gone  quite  far  enough  to  encourage  such  an 
expectation.  Your  present  excited  state  has  led  you  sufficiently 


EXPLAN  A TION. 


27? 


far  this  evening,  and  I could  not  answer  for  your  not  proposing 
in  all  form  before  the  supper  was  over ; therefore,  I had  no 
other  course  open  to  me  than  positively  to  refuse  Mrs.  Bingham’s 
invitation.  But  here  we  are  now  at  the  ‘ Cadran  Rouge  ; ’ we 
shall  have  our  lobster  and  a glass  of  Moselle,  and  then  to  bed, 
for  we  must  not  forget  that  we  are  to  be  at  St.  Cloud  by  seven.” 

“ Ah  ! that  is  a good  thought  of  yours  about  the  lobster,” 
said  O’Leary;  “and  now,  as  you  understand  these  matters, just 
order  supper,  and  let  us  enjoy  ourselves.” 

With  all  the  accustomed  despatch  of  a restaurant , a most  ap- 
petizing little  supper  made  its  speedy  appearance  ; and  although 
now  perfectly  divested  of  the  high  excitement  which  had  hitherto 
possessed  me,  my  spirits  were  excellent,  and  I never  more  rel- 
ished our  good  fare  and  good  fellowship. 

After  a full  bumper  to  the  health  of  the  fair  Emily  had  been 
proposed  and  drained  by  all  three,  Trevanion  again  explained 
how  much  more  serious  difficulty  would  result  from  any  false 
step  in  that  quarter,  than  from  all  other  scrapes  collectively. 

This  he  represented  so  strongly,  that  for  the  first  time  I began 
to  perceive  the  train  of  ill  consequences  that  must  inevitably  re- 
sult, and  promised  most  faithfully  to  be  guided  by  any  counsel 
he  might  feel  disposed  to  give  me. 

“Ah  ! what  a pity,”  said  O’Leary,  “ it  is  not  my  case.  It’s 
very  little  trouble  it  would  cost  any  one  to  break  off  a match  for 
me.  I had  always  a most  peculiar  talent  for  those  things.” 

“Indeed  !”  said  Trevanion.  “Pray  may  we  know  your  se- 
cret ? for,  perhaps,  ere  long  we  may  have  occasion  for  its  em- 
ployment.” 

“Tell  it,  by  all  means,”  said  I. 

“ If  I do,”  said  O’Leary,  “ it  will  cost  you  a patient  hearing; 
for  my  experiences  are  connected  with  two  episodes  in  my  early 
life,  which,  although  not  very  amusing,  are  certainly  instruct- 
ive.” 

“ Oh ! by  all  means  let  us  hear  them,”  said  Trevanion  ; “for 
we  have  yet  two  bottles  of  Chambertin  left,  and  must  finish  them 
ere  we  part.” 

“ Well,  agreed,”  said  O’Leary;  “ only,  once  for  all,  as  what  I 
am  about  to  confide  is  strictly  confidential,  you  must  promise 
never  even  to  allude  to  it  hereafter  in  even  the  most  remote 
manner,  much  less  indulge  in  any  unseemly  mirth  at  what  I shall 
relate.” 

Having  pledged  ourselves  to  secrecy  and  a becoming  serious- 
ness, O’Leary  began  his  story  as  follows. 


278 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

MR.  O’LEARY’S  FIRST  LOVE. 

“ It  was  during  the  viceroyalty  of  the  Duke  of  Richmond 
that  the  incidents  I am  about  to  mention  took  place.  That  was 
a few  years  since,  and  I was  rather  younger,  and  a little  more 
particular  about  my  dress  than  at  present.”  Here  the  little  man 
threw  a calm  glance  of  satisfaction  upon  his  uncouth  habili- 
ments, that  nearly  made  us  forget  our  compact,  and  laugh  out- 
right. “ Well,  in  those  wild  and  headstrong  days  of  youthful 
ardor,  I fell  in  love — desperately  in  love — and  as  always  is,  I 
believe,  the  case  with  our  early  experiments  in  that  unfortunate 
passion,  the  object  of  my  affection  was  in  every  way  unsuited  to 
me.  She  was  a tall,  dark-haired,  dark-eyed  maiden,  with  a ro- 
mantic imagination,  and  a kind  of  a half-ciazed  poetic  fervor, 
that  often  made  me  fear  for  her  intellect.  I’m  a short,  rather 
fat — I was  always  given  this  way  ” — here  he  patted  a waistcoat 
that  would  fit  Daniel  Lambert — “ happy-minded  little  fellow, 
that  liked  my  supper  of  oysters  at  the  Pigeon-house,  and  my 
other  creature  comforts,  and  hated  everything  that  excited  or 
put  me  out  of  my  way,  just  as  I would  have  hated  a blister. 
Then,  the  devil  would  have  it — for  as  certainly  as  marriages  are 
made  in  heaven,  flirtations  have  something  to  say  to  the  other 
place — that  I should  fall  most  irretrievably  in  love  with  Lady 
Agnes  Moreton.  Bless  my  soul,  it  absolutely  puts  me  in  a perspi- 
ration this  hot  day,  just  to  think  over  all  I went  through  on  her 
account ; for,  strange  to  say,  the  more  I appeared  to  prosper  in 
her  good  graces,  the  more  did  she  exact  on  my  part ; the  pur- 
suit was  like  Jacob’s  ladder — if  it  did  lead  to  heaven  it  was  cer- 
tainly an  awfully  long  journey,  and  very  hard  on  one’s  legs. 
There  was  not  an  amusement  she  could  think  of,  no  matter  how 
'^nsuited  to  my  tastes  or  my  abilities,  that  she  did  not  immedi- 
ately take  a violent  fancy  to ; and  then  there  was  no  escaping, 
and  I was  at  once  obliged  to  go  with  the  tide,  and  Heaven 
knows  if  it  would  not  have  carried  me  to  my  grave  if  it  were  not 
for  the  fortunate  (I  now  called  it)  accident  that  broke  off  the 
affair  forever ! One  time  she  took  a fancy  for  yachting,  and  all 
the  danglers  about  her — and  she  always  had  a cordon  of  them — 
young  aides-de  camp  of  her  father  the  general,  and  idle  hussars, 
in  clanking  sabretasches  and  most  absurd  mustachois — all  ap- 
proved of  the  taste,  and  so  kept  filling  her  mind  with  anecdotes 
of  corsairs  and  smugglers,  that  at  last  nothing  would  satisfy  her 
till  I — /,  who  always  would  rather  have  waited  for  low  water, 


MR.  O'LEARY'S  FIRST  LOVE. 


279 


and  waded  the  Liffey  in  all  its  black  mud,  than  cross  over  in  the 
ferry-boat,  for  fear  of  sickness — I was  obliged  to  put  an  adver- 
tisement in  the  newspaper  for  a pleasure-boat,  and,  before  three 
weeks,  saw  myself  owner  of  a clinker-built  schooner,  of  forty- 
eight  tons,  that  by  some  mockery  of  fortune  was  called  The  De- 
light. I wish  you  saw  me,  as  you  might  have  done  every  morn- 
ing for  about  a month,  as  I stood  on  the  Custom-house  quay, 
giving  orders  for  the  outfit  of  the  little  craft.  At  first,  as  she 
bobbed  and  pitched  with  the  flood-tide,  I used  to  be  a little 
giddy  and  rather  qualmish,  but  at  last  I learned  to  look  on  with- 
out my  head  reeling.  I began  to  fancy  myself  very  much  of  a 
sailor,  a delusion  considerably  encouraged  by  a huge  blue  jacket 
and  a sou’-wester,  both  of  which,  though  it  was  in  the  dog  days, 
Agnes  insisted  upon  my  wearing,  saying  I looked  more  like 
Dirk  Hatteraick,  who,  I understood,  was  one  of  her  favorite  he- 
roes in  Walter  Scott.  In  fact,  after  she  suggested  this,  she  and 
all  her  friends  called  me  nothing  but  4 Dirk.’ 

“ Well,  at  last,  after  Heaven  knows  how  many  excuses  on  my 
part,  and  entreaties  for  delay,  a day  was  appointed  for  our  first 
excursion.  I shall  never  forget  that  day — the  entire  night  be- 
fore it  I did  not  close  my  eyes  ; the  skipper  had  told  me,  in  his 
confounded  sea-jargon,  that  if  the  wind  was  in  one  quarter  we 
should  have  a short  tossing  sea  ; and  if  in  another,  a long  roll- 
ing swell ; and  if  in  a third,  a happy  union  of  both — in  fact,  he 
made  it  out  that  it  could  not  possibly  blow  right,  an  opinion  I 
most  heartily  coincided  in,  and  most  devoutly  did  I pray  for  a 
calm,  that  would  not  permit  of  our  stirring  from  our  moorings, 
and  thus  mar  our  projected  party  of  pleasure.  My  prayer  was 
unheard,  but  my  hopes  rose  on  the  other  hand,  for  it  blew  tre- 
mendously during  the  entire  night,  and  although  there  was  a 
lull  towards  morning,  the  sea,  even  in  the  river,  was  considera- 
ble. 

“ I had  just  come  to  the  conclusion  that  I was  safe  for  this 
time,  when  the  mate  poked  his  head  into  the  room  and  said, — 

“ 4 Mr.  Brail  wishes  to  know,  sir,  if  he’ll  bend  the  new  main- 
sail to-day,  as  it’s  blowing  rather  fresh,  and  he  thinks  the  spars 
light.’ 

“ 4 Why,  the  devil  take  him,  he  would  not  have  us  go  out  in  a 
hurricane ; surely,  Pipes,  we  could  not  take  out  ladies  to-day?  ’ 

44  4 Oh,  bless  your  heart,  yes,  sir ; it  blows  a bit  to  be  sure, 
but  she’s  a good  sea-boat,  and  we  can  run  for  Arklow  or  the 
Hook,  if  it  comes  fresher.’ 

44  4 Oh,  nonsense,  there’s  no  pleasure  in  that ; besides,  I’m 
sure  they  won’t  like  it — the  ladies  won’t  venture,  you’ll  see.’ 

44  4 Ay,  sir,  but  they’re  all  on  board  a’ready  : there’s  ^;ght 


28o 


HARRY  LORREQUER } 


ladies  in  the  cabin,  and  six  on  deck,  and  as  many  hampers  of 
victuals  and  as  much  crockery  as  if  we  were  goin’  to  Madeira. 
Captain  Grantham,  sir,  the  soldier  officer,  with  the  big  beard,  is 
a-mixing  punch  in  the  grog-tub/ 

“ 4 From  the  consequences  of  this  day  I proclaim  myself  inno- 
cent/ said  I,  with  a solemn  voice,  as  I drew  on  my  duck  trou- 
sers, and  prepared  to  set  out. 

44  4 And  the  mainsail,  sir/  said  the  mate,  not  understanding 
what  I said. 

44  4 1 care  not  which/  said  I,  doggedly;  4 act  or  part  in  this 
wilful  proceeding  I’ll  not  take.’ 

44  4 Ay,  ay,  sir,’ said  the  stupid  wretch;  4 then  I’ll  say  you’re 
a coming,  and  he  may  stretch  the  large  canvas ; for  the  skipper 
says  he  likes  a wet  jacket  when  he  has  gentlemen  out.’ 

44  Never  did  a victim  put  on  a flame-colored  garment,  the 
emblem  of  fate,  and  set  out  on  the  march  of  death,  with  a heav- 
ier heart  than  did  I put  on  my  pilot-coat  that  morning  to  join 
my  friends. 

44  My  last  hope  deserted  me  as  I saw  the  little  vessel  lying 
beside  the  quay  ; for  I continued  to  trust  that  in  getting  out 
from  the  dock  some  accident  or  mischance  might  occur  to  spoil 
our  sport.  But,  no  ; there  she  lay,  rolling  and  pitching  in  such 
a way  that,  even  at  anchor,  they  could  not  stand  on  the  deck 
without  holding.  Amid  the  torrent  of  compliments  for  the  per- 
fection of  all  my  arrangements,  and  innumerable  sweet  things 
on  my  taste  in  the  decoration  and  fitting  up  of  my  cabin,  I 
scarcely  felt  myself  afloat  for  some  minutes,  and  we  got  under 
weigh  amid  a noise  and  uproar  that  absolutely  prevented  the 
possibility  of  reflection. 

44  Hitherto  our  destination  had  not  been  mentioned,  and  as 
all  the  party  appealed  to  Lady  Agnes,  I could  not  be  less  gal- 
lant, and  joined  them  in  their  request. 

44  4 Well,  then,  what  do  you  think  of  Lambay  ? ’ said  she,  look- 
ing at  the  same  moment  towards  the  skipper. 

4 4 4 We  can  make  it,  my  lady,’  said  the  man ; 4 but  we’ll  have 
a roughish  sea  of  it,  for  there’s  a strong  point  of  westward  in 
the  wind.’ 

44  4 Then  don’t  think  of  it/  said  I.  4 We  have  come  out  for 
pleasure,  not  to  make  our  friends  sick,  or  terrify  them.  It  does 
very  well  for  us  men.’ 

4 4 4 There  you  are,  Dirk,  with  your  insolent  sneers  about  wom- 
en’s nerves  and  female  cowardice.  Now,  nothing  but  Lambay 
will  content  me — what  say  you,  ladies  ? ’ 

44  A general  reply  of  approval  met  this  speech,  and  it  was 
carried  by  acclamation. 


MR.  O' LEARY'S  FIRST  LOVE . 281 

44  4 Lambay  then  be  it,’  said  I,  with  the  voice  of  a man  who, 
entreating  to  be  shot,  is  informed  that  he  cannot  be  afforded 
that  pleasure,  as  his  sentence  is  to  be  hanged.  But  I must 
hasten  over  these  painful  recollections.  We  dropped  down  the 
river,  and  soon  left  the  lighthouse  and  its  long  pier  behind  us, 
the  mast  bending  like  a whip,  and  the  sea  boiling  like  barm 
over  the  lee  gunwale.  Still  the  spirit  of  our  party  only  rose  the 
lighter,  and  nothing  but  eulogies  upon  the  trim  and  sailing  of 
the  craft  resounded  on  all  sides ; the  din  and  buzz  of  the  con- 
versation went  on  only  more  loudly  and  less  restrictedly  than  if 
the  party  had  been  on  shore,  and  all,  even  myself,  seemed 
happy,  for  up  to  this  moment  I had  not  been  sea-sick,  yet  cer- 
tain treacherous  sensations,  that  alternately  evinced  themselves 
in  my  stomach  and  my  head,  warned  me  of  what  was  in  store 
for  me.  The  word  was  now  given  to  tack  ; I was  in  the  act  of 
essaying  a soft  speech  to  Lady  Agnes,  when  the  confounded 
cry  of  4 Ready  about,  starboard  there,  let  go  sheets  and  tacks, 
stand  by,  haul.’  The  vessel  plunged  head-foremost  into  the  boil- 
ing sea,  which  hissed  on  either  bow  ; the  heavy  boom  swung 
over,  carrying  my  hat  along  with  it — and  almost  my  head  too. 
The  rest  of  the  party,  possibly  better  informed  than  myself, 
speedily  changed  their  places  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  boat, 
while  I remained  holding  on,  fast,  by  the  gunwale,  till  the  sea 
rushing  over  what  was  now  become  the  lee  side,  carried  me 
head  over  heels  into  the  shingle  ballast  in  the  waist.  Lord,  how 
they  did  laugh  ! Agnes,  too,  who  never  before  could  get  be- 
yond a very  faint  smile,  grew  almost  hysterical  at  my  perform- 
ance. As  for  me,  I only  wanted  this  to  complete  my  long-threat- 
ened misfortune  ; sea-sickness,  in  all  its  most  miserable  forms, 
set  in  upon  me,  and,  ere  half  an  hour,  I lay  upon  that  heap  of 
small  stones,  as  indifferent  to  all  around  and  about  me  as  though 
I were  dead.  Oh,  the  long,  dreary  hours  of  that  melancholy 
day  ; it  seemed  like  a year.  They  tacked  and  tacked,  they 
wore — beat — and  tacked  again,  the  sea  washing  over  me,  and 
the  ruffianly  sailors  trampling  upon  me  without  the  slightest  re- 
morse, whenever  they  had  any  occasion  to  pass  back  or  forward. 
From  my  long  trance  of  suffering  I was  partly  roused  by  the 
steward  shaking  my  shoulder,  saying, — 

“ 4 The  gentlemen  wish  to  know,  sir,  if  you’d  like  sum’at  to 
eat,  as  they’re  a goin’  to  have  a morsel ; we  are  getting  into 
slack  water  now.’ 

4 4 4 Where  are  we  ? ’ I replied,  in  a sepulchral  voice. 

44  4 Off  the  Hook,  sir ; we  have  had  a most  splendid  run,  but  I 
fear  we’ll  catch  it  soon ; there’s  some  dirty  weather  to  the  west- 
ward.’ 


282 


BARRY  LORREQUER. 


“ 4 God  grant  it ! ’ said  I,  piously,  and  in  a low  tone. 

44 4 Did  you  say  you’d  have  a bit  to  eat,  sir  ? ’ 

“ 4 No  ! — eat — am  I a cannibal  ? — eat — go  away — mark  me, 
my  good  fellow,  I’ll  pay  you  your  wages,  if  ever  we  get  ashore ; 
you’ll  never  set  another  foot  aboard  with  me.’ 

“The  man  looked  perfectly  astounded  as  he  moved  away, 
and  my  thoughts  were  soon  engrossed  by  the  proceedings  near 
me.  The  rattle  of  knives,  and  the  jinglingof  plates  and  glasses, 
went  on  very  briskly  for  some  time,  accompanied  by  various 
pleasant  observations  of  my  guests,  for  such  I judged  them, 
from  the  mirth  which  ever  followed  them.  At  last  I thought  I 
heard  my  name,  or  at  least  what  they  pleased  to  use  as  its  sub- 
stitute, mentioned ; I strained  my  ears  to  listen,  and  learnt  that 
they  were  pretending  to  plan  a run  over  to  Cowes,  and  see  the 
regatta.  This  they  discussed  then,  for  about  twenty  minutes 
in  a very  loud  voice,  purposely  to  see  its  effects  upon  me ; but, 
as  I was  now  aware  of  the  trick,  I gave  no  signs  of  any  intelli- 
gence. 

“ 4 Poor  Dirk,’  said  Grantham ; 4 1 believe  by  this  time  he 
cares  very  little  which  way  her  head  lies  ; but  here  comes  some- 
thing better  than  all  our  discussions.  Lady  Agnes,  sit  here — 
Miss  Pelham,  here’s  a dry  cushion  for  you — did  you  say  a wing, 
Lady  Mary  ? ’ 

“Now  began  the  crash  and  clatter  of  dinner;  champagne 
corks  popping,  glasses  ringing,  and  all  that  peculiar  admixture 
of  fracas  and  fun  which  accompanies  a scrambled  meal.  How 
they  did  laugh,  and  eat,  ay,  and  drink  too.  G.’s  punch  seemed  to 
have  its  success,  for,  sick  as  I was,  I could  perceive  the  voices 
of  the  men  grow  gradually  louder,  and  discovered  that  two 
gentlemen  who  had  been  remarkably  timid  in  the  morning,  and 
scarcely  opened  their  lips,  were  now  rather  uproariously  given, 
and  one  even  proposed  to  sing. 

“ 4 If  any  man,’  thought  I,  4 were  to  look  for  an  instant  at  the 
little  scene  now  enacting  here,  what  a moral  would  he  reap  from 
it ; talk  of  the  base  ingratitude  of  the  world,  you  cannot  say  too 
much  of  it.  Who  would  suppose  that  it  was  my  boat  these 
people  were  assembled  in ; that  it  was  my  champagne  these 
people  were  drinking : that  my  venison  and  my  pheasants  were 
feeding  those  lips,  which  rarely  spoke,  except  to  raise  a joke  at 
my  expense  ? ’ My  chargin  increased  my  sickness,  and  my 
sickness  redoubled  my  chagrin. 

44  4 Mr.  Brail,’  said  I,  in  a low  whisper — 4 Mr.  Brail.’ 

44  4 Did  you  speak,  sir  ? ’ said  he,  with  about  as  much  surprise 
in  his  manner  as  though  he  had  been  addressed  by  a corpse. 

44  4 Mr.  Brail,’  said  I,  4 is  there  any  danger  here  ? ’ 


MR.  O'LEARY'S  FIRST  LOVE. 


283 

“ 4 Lord  love  you,  no,  sir,  she’s  walking  Spanish,  and  the  sea 
going  down  ; we  shall  have  lovely  weather,  and  they’re  all  en- 
joying it,  sir, — the  ladies.’ 

44  4 So  I perceive,’  said  I,  with  a groan — 4 so  I perceive ; but, 
Mr.  Brail,  could  you  do  nothing — just  to — to — startle  them  a lit- 
tle, I mean  for  fun  only  ? Just  ship  a heavy  sea  or  two,  I don’t 
care  for  a little  damage,  Mr.  Brail,  and  if  it  were  to  wash  over 
the  dinner  service,  and  all  the  wine,  I should  not  like  it  worse.’ 

“ 4 Why,  sir,  you  are  getting  quite  funny  • the  sickness  is  go- 
ing.’ 

44  4 No,  Mr.  Brail,  worse  than  ever  ; my  head  is  in  two  pieces, 
and  my  stomach  in  the  back  of  my  mouth ; but  I should  like  you 
to  do  this — so  just  manage  it,  will  you  ; and  there’s  twenty  pounds 
in  my  pocket-book,  you  can  have  it ; there  now,  won’t  you  oblige 
me  ? And  hark  ye,  Mr.  Brail — if  Captain  Grantham  were  to  be 
washed  over  by  mere  accident  it  cannot  be  helped  ; accidents 
are  always  occurring  in  boating  parties.  Go  now  ; you  know 
what  I mean.’ 

“ 4 But,  sir — ’ began  he. 

44  4 Well,  then,  Mr.  Brail,  you  won’t — very  well : now  all  I have 
to  say  is  this : that  the  moment  I can  find  strength  to  do  it,  I’ll 
stave  out  a plank  ; I’ll  scuttle  the  vessel,  that’s  all ; I have  made 
up  my  mind,  and  look  to  yourselves  now.’ 

44  Saying  these  words,  I again  threw  myself  upon  the  ballast, 
and,  as  the  gay  chorus  of  a drinking  song  was  wafted  across  me, 
prayed  devoutly  that  we  might  all  go  down  to  the  bottom.  The 
song  over,  I heard  a harsh,  gruff  voice  mixing  with  the  more  civ- 
ilized tones  of  the  party,  and  soon  perceived  that  Mr.  Brail  was 
recounting  my  proposal  amid  the  most  uproarious  shouts  of 
laughter  I ever  listened  to.  Then  followed  a number  of  pleas- 
ant suggestions  for  my  future  management ; one  proposing  to 
have  me  tried  for  mutiny,  and  sentenced  to  a good  ducking  over 
the  side  ; another,  that  I should  be  tarred  on  my  back,  to  which 
latter  most  humane  notion  the  fair  Agnes  subscribed,  averring 
that  she  was  resolved  upon  my  deserving  my  sobriquet  of  Dirk 
Hatteraick.  My  wrath  was  now  the  master  even  of  deadly  sick- 
ness. I got  upon  my  knees,  and  having  in  vain  tried  to  reach 
my  legs,  I struggled  aft.  In  this  posture  did  I reach  the  quar- 
ter-deck. What  my  intention  precisely  was  in  this  excursion,  I 
have  no  notion  of  now,  but  I have  some  very  vague  idea,  that  I 
meant  to  react  the  curse  of  Kehama  upon  the  whole  party.  At 
last  I mustered  strength  to  rise  ; but,  alas  ! I had  scarcely  reached 
the  standing  position,  when  a tremendous  heel  of  the  boat  to 
one  side  threw  me  in  the  gunwale,  and  before  I was  able  to  re- 
cover my  balance,  a second  lurch  niched  me  headlong  into  the 


284 


HARRY  LORREQUER . 


sea.  I have,  thank  God,  no  further  recollection  of  my  misfort- 
unes. When  I again  became  conscious,  I found  myself  wrapped 
up  in  a pilot-coat,  while  my  clothes  were  drying.  The  vessel 
was  at  anchor  in  Wexford,  my  attached  friends  had  started  for 
town  with  post-horses,  leaving  me  no  less  cured  of  love  than 
aquatics. 

“ The  Delight  passed  over  in  a few  days  to  some  more  favored 
son  of  Neptune,  and  I hid  my  shame  and  my  misfortunes  by  a 
year's  tour  on  the  Continent." 

“ Although  I acknowledge,"  said  Trevanion,  “ that  hitherto  I 
have  reaped  no  aid  from  Mr.  O’Leary's  narrative,  yet  I think  it 
is  not  without  a moral." 

“ Well,  but,"  said  I,  “ he  has  got  another  adventure  to  tell  us  ; 
we  have  quite  time  for  it,  so  pray  pass  the  wine  and  let  us  have 
it” 

“ I have  just  finished  the  Burgundy,"  said  O’Leary,  “ and  if 
you  will  ring  for  another  flask,  I have  no  objection  to  let  you 
hear  the  story  of  my  second  love." 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

MR.  O’LEARY’S  SECOND  LOVE. 

u You  may  easily  suppose,"  began  Mr.  O’Leary,  “ that  the 
unhappy  termination  of  my  first  passion  served  as  a shield  to 
me  for  a long  time  against  my  unfortunate  tendencies  towards 
the  fair ; and  such  was  really  the  case.  I never  spoke  to  a 
young  lady  for  three  years  after  without  a reeling  in  my  head, 
so  associated  in  my  mind  was  love  and  sea-sickness.  However, 
at  last,  what  will  time  not  do  ? It  was  about  four  years  from 
the  date  of  this  adventure,  when  I became  so  oblivious  of  my 
former  failure  as  again  to  tempt  my  fortune ! My  present 
choice,  in  every  way  unlike  the  last,  was  a gay,  lively  girl,  of 
great  animal  spirits,  and  a considerable  turn  for  raillery,  that 
spared  no  one ; the  members  of  her  own  family  were  not  even 
sacred  in  her  eyes ; and  her  father,  a reverend  dean,  as  fre- 
quently figured  among  the  ludicrous  as  his  neighbors. 

“The  Evershams  had  been  very  old  friends  of  a rich  aunt  of 
mine,  who  never,  by  the  bye,  had  condescended  to  notice  me 
till  I made  their  acquaintance  ; but  no  sooner  had  I done  so, 
than  she  sent  for  me,  and  gave  me  to  understand  that,  in  the 
event  of  my  succeeding  to  the  hand  of  Fanny  Eversham,  I 
should  be  her  heir,  and  the  possessor  of  about  sixty  thousand 


MR.  O'LEARY'S  SECOND  LOVE . 


285 

pounds.  She  did  not  stop  here  ; but  by  canvassing  the  dean 
in  my  favor,  speedily  put  the  matter  on  a most  favorable  foot- 
ing, and  in  less  than  two  months  I was  received  as  the  accepted 
suitor  of  the  fair  Fanny,  then  one  of  the  reigning  belles  of 
Dublin. 

“ They  lived  at  this  time  about  three  miles  from  town,  in  a 
very  pretty  country,  where  I used  to  pass  all  my  mornings,  and 
many  of  my  evenings  too,  in  a state  of  happiness  that  I should 
have  considered  perfect,  if  it  were  not  for  two  unhappy  blots — 
one,  the  taste  of  my  betrothed  for  laughing  at  her  friends  ; an- 
other, the  diabolical  propensity  to  talk  politics  of  my  intended 
father-in-law.  To  the  former  I could  submit ; but  with  the  lat- 
ter, submission  only  made  bad  worse  ; for  he  invariably  drew 
up  as  I receded,  dryly  observing  that  with  men  who  had  no 
avowed  opinions,  it  was  ill  agreeing ; or  that,  with  persons  who 
kept  their  politics  as  a schoolboy  does  his  pocket-money,  never 
to  spend,  and  always  ready  to  change,  it  was  unpleasant  to  dis- 
pute. Such  taunts  as  these  I submitted  to  as  well  as  I might; 
secretly  resolving,  that  as  I never  knew  the  meaning  of  Whig 
and  Tory,  Fd  contrive  to  spend  my  life,  after  marriage,  out  of 
the  worthy  dean’s  diocese. 

“ Time  wore  on,  and  at  length  to  my  most  pressing  solicita- 
tions, it  was  conceded  that  a day  for  our  marriage  should  be  ap- 
pointed. Not  even  the  unlucky  termination  of  this  my  second 
love  affair  can  deprive  me  of  the  happy  souvenir  of  the  few  weeks 
which  were  to  intervene  before  our  destined  union. 

“The  mornings  were  passed  in  ransacking  all  the  shops 
where  wedding  finery  could  be  procured — laces,  blondes,  velvets, 
and  satins  littered  every  corner  of  the  deanery — and  there  was 
scarcely  a carriage  in  a coachmaker’s  yard  in  the  city  that  I had 
not  sat  and  jumped  in,  to  try  the  springs,  by  the  special  direc- 
tion of  Mrs.  Eversham,  who  never  ceased  to  impress  me  with 
the  awful  responsibility  I was  about  to  take  upon  me  in  marry- 
ing so  great  a prize  as  her  daughter — a feeling  I found  very  gen- 
eral among  many  of  my  friends  at  the  Kildare  Street  Club. 

“ Among  the  many  indispensable  purchases  which  I was  to 
make,  and  about  which  Fanny  expressed  herself  more  than  com- 
monly anxious,  was  a saddle-horse  for  me.  She  was  a great 
horsewoman,  and  hated  riding  with  only  a servant,  and  had 
given  me  to  understand  as  much  about  half  a dozen  times  each 
day  for  the  last  five  weeks.  How  shall  I acknowledge  it — 
equestrianism  was  never  my  forte.  I had  all  my  life  consider- 
able respect  for  the  horse  as  an  animal,  pretty  much  as  I re- 
garded a lion  or  a tiger ; but  as  to  any  intention  of  mounting 
upon  the  back  of  one,  and  taking  a ride,  I should  as  soon  have 


286 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


dreamed  of  taking  an  airing  upon  a giraffe  ; and  as  to  the 
thought  of  buying,  feeding,  and  maintaining  such  a beast  at  my 
own  proper  cost,  I should  just  as  soon  have  determined  to  pur- 
chase a pillory  or  a ducking-stool,  by  way  of  amusing  my  leisure 
hours. 

“ However,  Fanny  was  obstinate — whether  she  suspected  any- 
thing or  not  I cannot  say — but  nothing  seemed  to  turn  her  from 
her  purpose  ; and  although  I pleaded  a thousand  things  in  de- 
lay, yet  she  each  day  grew  more  impatient,  and  at  last  I saw 
that  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  submit. 

“ When  I arrived  at  this  last  and  bold  resolve,  I could  not  help 
feeling  that  to  possess  a horse  and  not  be  able  to  mount  him, 
was  only  deferring  the  ridicule  ; and  as  I had  so  often  expressed 
the  difficulty  I felt  in  suiting  myself  as  a cause  ot  my  delay,  I 
could  not  possibly  come  forward  with  anything  very  objectiona- 
ble, or  I should  be  only  the  more  laughed  at.  There  was  then 
but  one  course  to  take ; a fortnight  still  intervened  before  the 
day  which  was  to  make  me  happy,  and  I resolved  to  take  lessons 
in  riding  during  the  interval,  and  by  every  endeavor  in  my  pow- 
er become,  if  possible,  able  to  pass  muster  on  the  saddle  before 
my  bride. 

“ Poor  old  Lalouette  understood  but  little  of  the  urgency  of 
the  case  when  I requested  his  leave  to  take  my  lessons  each 
morning  at  six  o’clock,  for  I dared  not  absent  myself  during  the 
day  without  exciting  suspicion ; and  never,  I will  venture  to  as- 
sert, did  knight-errant  of  old  strive  harder  for  the  hand  of  his 
lady-love  than  did  I during  that  weary  fortnight.  If  a hippogriff 
had  been  the  animal  I bestrode,  instead  of  being,  as  it  was,  an 
old  wall-eyed  gray,  I could  not  have  felt  more  misgivings  at  my 
temerity,  or  more  proud  of  my  achievement.  In  the  first  three 
days,  the  unaccustomed  exercise  proved  so  severe,  that  when  I 
reached  the  deanery  I could  hardly  move,  and  crossed  the  floor 
pretty  much  as  a pair  of  compasses  might  be  supposed  to  do  if 
performing  that  exploit.  Nothing,  however,  could  equal  the 
kindness  of  my  poor  dear  mother-in-law  in  embryo,  and  even  the 
dean  too.  Fanny,  indeed,  said  nothing;  but  I rather  think  she 
was  disposed  to  giggle  a little  ; but  my  rheumatism,  as  it  was 
called,  was  daily  inquired  after,  and  I was  compelled  to  take 
some  infernal  stuff  in  my  port  wine  at  dinner  that  nearly  made 
me  sick  at  table. 

“ 6 1 am  sure  you  walk  too  much/  said  Fanny,  with  one  of 
her  knowing  looks.  4 Papa,  don’t  you  think  he  ought  to  ride  ? 
It  would  be  much  better  for  him.’ 

“ ‘ I do,  my  dear,’  said  the  dean.  ‘ But  then,  you  see,  he  is  so 
hard  to  be  pleased  in  a horse.  Your  old  hunting  days  have 


MR.  O'LEARY'S  SECOND  LOVE.  287 

spoiled  you ; but  you  must  forget  Melton  and  Grantham,  and 
condescend  to  keep  a hack.’ 

“ I must  have  looked  confoundedly  foolish  here,  for  Fanny 
never  took  her  eyes  off  me,  and  continued  to  laugh  in  her  own 
wicked  way. 

“ It  was  now  about  the  ninth  or  tenth  day  of  my  purgatorial 
performances  ; and  certainly  if  there  be  any  merit  in  fleshly  mor- 
tifications, these  religious  exercises  of  mine  should  stand  my 
part  hereafter.  A review  had  been  announced  in  the  Phoenix 
Park,  which  Fanny  had  expressed  herself  most  desirous  to  wit- 
ness ; and  as  the  dean  would  not  permit  her  to  go  without  a 
chaperon,  I had  no  means  of  escape,  and  promised  to  escort  her. 
No  sooner  had  I made  this  rash  pledge,  than  I hastened  to  my 
confidential  friend,  Lalouette,  and  having  imparted  to  him  my 
entire  secret,  asked  him  in  a solemn  and  imposing  manner,  ‘Can 
I do  it  ? ’ The  old  man  shook  his  head  dubiously,  looked  grave, 
and  muttered  at  length,  ‘ Mosch  depend  on  de  horse.’  ‘ I know 
it — I know  it — I feel  it,’  said  I,  eagerly  ; ‘ then,  where  are  we  to 
find  an  animal  that  will  carry  me  peaceably  through  this  awful 
day — I care  not  for  its  price  ? ’ 

“ ‘ Votre  affaire  ne  sera  pas  trop  chere,’  said  he. 

“ ‘ Why,  how  do  you  mean  ? ’ said  I. 

“ He  then  proceeded  to  inform  me  that,  by  a singularly  fort- 
unate chance,  there  took  place  that  day  an  auction  of  ‘ cast 
horses,’  as  they  are  termed,  which  had  been  used  in  the  horse 
police  force ; and  that,  from  long  riding,  and  training  to  stand 
fire,  nothing  could  be  more  suitable  than  one  of  these,  being  both 
easy  to  ride,  and  not  given  to  start  at  noise. 

“ I could  have  almost  hugged  the  old  fellow  for  his  happy  sug- 
gestion, and  waited  with  impatience  for  three  o’clock  to  come, 
when  we  repaired  together  to  Essex  Bridge,  at  that  time  the 
place  selected  for  these  sales. 

“ I was  at  first  a little  shocked  at  the  look  of  the  animals 
drawn  up  ; they  were  mostly  miserably  thin,  most  of  them  swelled 
in  the  legs,  few  without  sore  backs,  and  not  one  eye,  on  an  aver- 
age, in  every  three  ; but  still  they  were  all  high  steppers,  and 
carried  a great  tail.  ‘ There’s  your  “ affaire,”  ’ said  the  old 
Frenchman,  as  a long-legged,  fiddle-headed  beast  was  led  out; 
turning  out  his  fore-legs  so  as  to  endanger  the  man  who  walked 
beside  him. 

“ ‘Yes,  there’s  blood  for  you,’  said  Charley  Dycer,  seeing  my 
eye  fixed  on  the  wretched  beast ; ‘ equal  to  fifteen  stone  with 
any  fox-hounds  ; safe  in  all  his  paces,  and  warranted  sound  ; ex- 
cept,’ added  he,  in  a whisper,  ‘ a slight  spavin  in  both  hind  legs, 
ring  bone,  and  a little  touched  in  the  wind.’  Here  the  animal 


238 


BARRY  LORREQUER. 


gave  an  approving  cough.  4 Will  any  gentleman  say  fifty  pounds 
to  begin  ? ’ But  no  gentleman  did.  A hackney  coachman,  how- 
ever, said  five,  and  the  sale  was  opened  ; the  beast  trotting  up 
and  down  nearly  over  the  bidders  at  every  moment,  and  plung- 
ing on  so,  that  it  was  impossible  to  know  what  was  doing. 

44  4 Five  ten — fifteen — six  pounds — thank  you,  sir, — guineas/ 
4 Seven  pounds/  said  I,  bidding  against  myself,  not  perceiving 
that  I had  spoken  last.  4 Thank  you,  Mr.  Moriarty/  said  Dycer, 
turning  towards  an  invisible  purchaser  supposed  to  be  in  the 
crowd — 4 thank  you  sir,  you’ll  not  let  a good  one  go  in  that  way/ 
Every  one  here  turned  to  find  out  the  very  knowing  gentleman  ; 
but  he  could  nowhere  be  seen. 

44  Dycer  resumed,  4 Seven  ten  for  Mr.  Moriarty.  Going  for 
seven  ten — a cruel  sacrifice — there’s  action  for  you — playful 
beast.’  Here  the  devil  had  stumbled,  and  nearly  killed  a basket- 
woman  with  two  children. 

44  4 Eight/  said  I,  with  a loud  voice. 

44  4 Eight  pounds,  quite  absurd/  said  Dycer,  almost  rudely,  4 a 
charger  like  that  for  eight  pounds — going  for  eight  pounds — 
going — nothing  above  eight  pounds — no  reserve,  gentlemen, 
you  are  aware  of  that.  They  are  all,  as  it  were,  his  Majesty’s 
stud — no  reserve  whatever — last  time — eight  pounds — gone.’ 

44  Amid  a very  hearty  cheer  from  the  mob — God  knows  why — 
but  a Dublin  mob  always  cheer,  I returned,  accompanied  by  a 
ragged  fellow,  leaving  my  new  purchase  after  me  with  a hay 
halter.  4 What  is  the  meaning  of  those  letters  ? ’ said  I,  pointing 
to  a very  conspicuous  G R.,  with  sundry  other  enigmatical  signs, 
burnt  upon  the  animal’s  hind-quarter. 

44  4 That’s  to  show  he  was  a po-lis/  said  the  fellow,  with  a grin  ; 
4 and  whin  ye  ride  with  ladies,  ye  must  turn  the  decoy  side.’ 

44  The  auspicious  morning  at  last  arrived  ; and  strange  to  say, 
that  the  first  waking  thought  was  of  the  unlucky  day  that  ushered 
in  my  yachting  excursion  four  years  before.  Why  this  was  so, 
I cannot  pretend  to  guess  ; there  was  but  little  analogy  in  the 
circumstances,  at  least  so  far  as  anything  had  then  gone.  4 How  is 
Marius  ? ’ said  I to  my  servant,  as  he  opened  my  shutters.  Here 
let  me  mention  that  a friend  of  the  Kildare  Street  Club  had  sug- 
gested this  name  from  the  remarkably  classic  character  of  my 
steed’s  countenance ; his  nose,  he  assured  me,  was  perfectly 
Roman. 

44  4 Marius  is  doing  finely,  sir,  barring  his  cough,  and  the  thrifle 
that  ails  his  hind-legs.’ 

44  4 He’ll  carry  me  quietly,  Simon,  eh  ? ’ 

44  4 Quietly.  I’ll  warrant  he’ll  carry  you  quietly,  if  that’s  all.’ 

44  Here  was  comfort ; for  Simon  had  lived  forty  years  as  pam 


MR.  O'LEARY'S  SECOND  LOVE . 289 

try  boy  with  my  mother,  and  knew  a great  deal  about  horses.  I 
dressed  myself,  therefore,  in  high  spirits;  and  if  my  pilot  jacket 
and  oil-skin  cap  in  former  days  had  half  persuaded  me  that  I 
was  born  for  marine  achievements,  certainly  my  cords  and  tops, 
that  morning,  went  far  to  convince  me  that  I must  have  once 
been  a very  keen  sportsman  somewhere  without  knowing  it.  It 
was  a delightful  July  day  that  I set  out  to  join  my  friends,  who 
having  recruited  a large  party,  were  to  rendezvous  at  the  corner 
of  Stephen’s  Green  ; thither  I proceeded  in  a certain  ambling 
trot,  which  I have  often  observed  is  a very  favorite  pace  with 
timid  horsemen,  and  gentlemen  of  the  medical  profession.  I 
was  hailed  with  a most  hearty  welcome  by  a large  party  as  I 
turned  out  of  Grafton  Street,  among  whom  I perceived  several 
friends  of  Miss  Eversham,  and  some  young  dragoon  officers,  not 
of  my  acquaintance,  but  who  appeared  to  know  Fanny  intimately, 
and  were  laughing  heartily  with  her  as  I rode  up. 

44  I don’t  know  if  other  men  have  experienced  what  I am  about 
to  mention  or  not ; but  certainly  to  me  there  is  no  more  painful 
sensation  than  to  find  yourself  among  a number  of  well-mounted, 
well-equipped  people,  while  the  animal  you  yourself  besiride 
seems  only  fit  for  the  kennel.  Every  look  that  is  cast  at  your 
unlucky  steed — every  whispered  observation  about  you  are  so 
many  thorns  in  your  flesh,  till  at  last  you  begin  to  feel  that  your 
appearance  is  for  very  little  else  than  the  amusement  and  mirth 
of  the  assembly  ; and  every  time  you  rise  in  your  stirrups  you 
excite  a laugh. 

“ 4 Where,  for  mercy’s  sake,  did  you  find  that  creature  ? ’ said 
Fanny,  surveying  Marius  through  a glass. 

44  ‘Oh,  him,  eh  ? Why,  he  is  a handsome  horse,  if  in  condition 
— a charger,  you  know — that’s  his  style.’ 

4 4 4 Indeed,’  lisped  a young  lancer,  4 1 should  be  devilish  sorry 
to  charge  or  be  charged  with  him.’  And  here  they  all  chuckled 
at  this  puppy’s  silly  joke,  and  I drew  up  to  repress  further  liber- 
ties. 

4 4 4 Is  he  anything  of  a fencer  ? ’ said  a young  country  gentle- 
man. 

44  4 To  judge  from  his  near  eye,  I should  say  much  more  of  a 
boxer,’  said  another. 

44  Here  commenced  a running  fire  of  pleasantry  at  the  expense 
of  my  poor  steed ; which,  not  content  with  attacking  his  physi- 
cal, extended  to  his  moral  qualities.  An  old  gentleman  near  me 
observing,  4 that  I ought  not  to  have  mounted  him  at  all,  seeing 
that  he  was  so  deuced  groggy ! ’ to  which  I replied,  by  insinuat- 
ing, that  if  others  present  were  as  free  from  the  influence  of  ar- 
dent spirits,  society  would  not  be  a sufferer;  an  observation 


290 


HARRY  LORRE QUER . 


that  I flatter  myself  turned  the  mirth  against  the  old  fellow,  for 
they  all  laughed  for  a quarter  of  an  hour  after. 

“ Well,  at  last  we  set  out  in  a brisk  trot,  and,  placed  near 
Fanny,  I speedily  forgot  all  my  annoyances  in  the  prospect  of 
figuring  to  advantage  before  her.  When  we  reached  College 
Green  the  leaders  of  the  party  suddenly  drew  up,  and  we  soon 
found  that  the  entire  street  opposite  the  Bank  was  filled  with  a 
dense  mob  of  people,  who  appeared  to  be  swayed  hither  and 
thither,  like  some  mighty  beast,  as  the  individuals  composing  it 
were  engaged  in  close  conflict.  It  was  nothing  more  nor  less 
than  one  of  those  almost  weekly  rows,  which  then  took  place  be- 
tween the  students  of  the  University  and  the  townspeople,  and 
which  rarely  ended  without  serious  consequences.  The  numbers 
of  people  pressing  on  to  the  scene  of  action  soon  blocked  up 
our  retreat,  and  we  found  ourselves  most  unwilling  spectators  of 
the  conflict.  Political  watchwords  were  loudly  shouted  by  each 
party ; and  at  last  the  students,  who  appeared  to  be  yielding  to 
superior  numbers,  called  out  for  the  intervention  of  the  police. 
The  aid  was  nearer  than  they  expected ; for  at  the  same  instant 
a body  of  mounted  policemen,  whose  high  helmets  rendered 
them  sufficiently  conspicuous,  were  seen  trotting  at  a sharp  pace 
down  Dame  Street.  On  they  came  with  drawn  sabres,  led  by  a 
well-looking,  gentlemanlike  personage  in  plain  clothes,  who 
dashed  at  once  into  the  midst  of  the  fray,  issuing  his  orders, 
and  pointing  out  to  his  followers  to  secure  the  ringleaders.  Up 
to  this  moment  I had  been  a most  patient,  and  rather  amused 
spectator,  of  what  was  doing.  Now,  however,  my  part  was  to 
commence,  for  at  the  word  4 charge,’  given  in  harsh,  deep  voice 
by  the  sergeant  of  the  party,  Marius,  remembering  his  ancient 
instinct,  pricked  up  his  ears,  cocked  his  tail,  flung  up  both 
his  hind  legs  till  they  nearly  broke  the  provost’s  windows, 
and  plunged  into  the  thickest  of  the  fray  like  a devil  incar- 
nate. 

“ Self-preservation  must  be  a strong  instinct,  for  I well  re- 
member how  little  pain  it  cost  me  to  see  the  people  tumbling 
and  rolling  before  and  beneath  me,  while  I continued  to  keep 
my  seat.  It  was  only  the  moment  before  and  that  immense 
mass  were  in  man  to  man  encounter;  now,  all  the  indignation 
of  both  parties  seemed  turned  upon  me  ; brick-bats  were  loudly 
implored,  and  paving-stones  begged  to  throw  at  my  devoted 
head ; the  wild  huntsman  of  the  German  romance  never  created 
half  the  terror,  nor  one-tenth  of  the  mischief  that  I did  in  less 
then  fifteen  minutes,  for  the  ill-starred  beast  continued  twining 
and  twisting  like  a serpent,  plunging  and  kicking  the  entire  time, 
and  occasionally  biting  too  ; all  which  accomplishments  I after- 


MR.  O'LEARY'S  SECOND  LOVE. 


291 


wards  learned,  however  little  in  request  in  civil  life,  are  highly 
prized  in  the  horse  police. 

“ Every  new  order  of  the  sergeant  was  followed  in  his  own 
fashion  by  Marius ; who  very  soon  contrived  to  concentrate  in 
my  unhappy  person  all  the  interest  of  about  fifteen  hundred 
people. 

“ 4 Secure  that  scoundrel/  said  the  magistrate,  pointing  with 
his  finger  towards  me,  as  I rode  over  a respectable-looking  old 
lady,  with  a gray  muff.  4 Secure  him.  Cut  him  down.’ 

44  4 Ah,  devil’s  luck  to  him,  if  he  do/  said  a newsmonger  with  a 
broken  shin. 

44  On  I went,  however;  and  now,  as  the  Fates  would  have  it, 
instead  of  bearing  me  out  of  further  danger,  the  confounded 
brute  dashed  onwards  to  where  the  magistrate  was  standing, 
surrounded  by  policemen.  I thought  I saw  him  change  color 
as  I came  on.  I suppose  my  own  looks  were  none  of  the  pleas- 
antest, for  the  worthy  man  evidently  liked  them  not.  Into  the 
midst  of  them  we  plunged,  upsetting  a corporal,  horse  and  all, 
and  appearing  as  if  bent  upon  reaching  the  alderman. 

44  4 Cut  him  down,  for  Heaven’s  sake.  Will  nobody  shoot 
him  ? ’ said  he,  with  a voice  trembling  with  fear  and  anger. 

44  At  these  words  a wretch  lifted  up  his  sabre,  and  made 
a cut  at  my  head.  I stooped  suddenly,  and  throwing  myself 
from  the  saddle,  seized  the  poor  alderman  round  the  neck,  and 
we  both  came  rolling  to  the  ground  together.  So  completely 
was  he  possessed  with  the  notion  that  I meant  to  assassinate 
him,  that  while  I was  endeavoring  to  extricate  myself  from  his 
grasp,  he  continued  to  beg  his  life  in  the  most  heart-rending 
manner. 

44  My  story  is  now  soon  told.  So  effectually  did  they  rescue 
the  alderman  from  his  danger  that  they  left  me  insensible ; and 
I only  came  to  myself  some  days  after  by  finding  myself  in  the 
dock  in  Green  Street,  charged  with  an  indictment  of  nine- 
teen counts  ; the  only  word  of  truth  of  which  lay  in  the  pream- 
ble, for  the  4 devil  inciting  ’ me  only,  would  ever  have  made  me 
the  owner  of  that  infernal  beast,  the  cause  of  all  my  misfort- 
unes. I was  so  stupefied  with  my  beating,  that  I know  little  of 
the  course  of  the  proceedings.  My  friends  told  me  afterwards 
that  I had  a narrow  escape  from  transportation  ; but  for  the 
greatest  influence  exerted  in  my  behalf,  I should  certainly  have 
passed  the  autumn  in  the  agreeable  recreation  of  pounding  oyster 
shells  or  carding  wool ; and  it  certainly  must  have  gone  hard 
with  me,  for,  stupefied  as  I was,  I remember  the  sensation  in  court 
when  the  alderman  made  his  appearance  with  a patch  over  his  eye. 
The  affecting  admonition  of  the  little  judge — who,  when  passing 


292 


HARRY  LQRREQUER. 


sentence  upon  me,  adverted  to  the  former  respectability  of  my 
life,  and  the  rank  of  my  relatives — actually  made  the  galleries 
weep. 

“ Four  months  to  Newgate,  and  a fine  to  the  king,  then  re- 
warded my  taste  for  horse-exercise  ; and  it’s  no  wonder  if  I pre- 
fer going  on  foot. 

“ As  to  Miss  Eversham,  the  following  short  note  from  the 
dean  concluded  my  hopes  in  that  quarter. 

“‘Deanery,  Wednesday  morning. 

“ ‘ Sir, — After  the  very  distressing  publicity  to  which  your 
late  conduct  has  exposed  you — the  so  open  avowal  of  political 
opinions,  at  variance  with  those  (I  will  say)  of  every  gentleman 
— and  the  recorded  sentence  of  a judge  on  the  verdict  of  twelve 
of  your  countrymen — I should  hope  that  you  will  not  feel  my 
present  admonition  necessary  to  inform  you  that  your  visits  at 
my  house  shall  cease. 

“ 4 The  presents  you  made  my  daughter,  when  under  our  un- 
fortunate ignorance  of  your  real  character,  have  been  addressed 
to  your  hotel,  and  I am  your  most  obedient,  humble  servant, 

“ 4 Oliver  Eversham. ’ 

“ Here  ended  my  second  affair  par  amours ; and  I freely  con- 
fess to  you  that  if  I can  only  obtain  a wife  in  a sea  voyage,  or  a 
steeple  chase,  I am  likely  to  fulfil  one  great  condition  in  modern 
advertising — ‘ as  having  no  incumbrance,  nor  any  objection  to 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

THE  DUEL. 

Mr.  O’Leary  had  scarcely  concluded  the  narrative  of  his 
second  adventure,  when  the  gray  light  of  the  breaking  day  was 
seen  faintly  struggling  through  the  half-closed  curtains,  and  ap- 
prising us  of  the  lateness  of  the  hour. 

“ I think  we  shall  just  have  time  for  one  finishing  flask  of 
Chambertin,”  said  O’Leary,  as  he  emptied  the  bottle  into  his 
glass. 

“ I forbid  the  banns,  for  one,”  cried  Trevanion.  “ We  have 
all  had  wine  enough,  considering  what  we  have  before  us  this 
morning  ; and  besides,  you  are  not  aware  it  is  now  past  four 
o’clock.  So,  gar^on — gar^on,  there  ! — how  soundly  the  poor  feh 


THE  DUEL . 


293 


low  sleeps — let  us  have  some  coffee,  and  then  inquire  if  a car- 
riage is  in  waiting  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  Vivienne. ” 

The  coffee  made  its  appearance,  very  much,  as  it  seemed,  to 
Mr.  O’Leary’s  chagrin,  who,  however,  solaced  himself  by  sundry 
“ small  glasses  ” to  correct  the  coldness  of  the  wine  he  had 
drunk,  and  at  length  recovered  his  good  humor. 

“ Do  you  know,  now,”  said  he,  after  a short  pause,  in  which 
we  had  all  kept  silence,  “ I think  what  w7e  are  about  to  do  is 
the  very  ugliest  way  of  finishing  a pleasant  evening.  For  my 
own  part  I like  the  wind-up  we  used  to  have  in  4 Old  Trinity  ’ 
formerly  ; when,  after  wringing  off  half  a dozen  knockers,  break- 
ing the  lamps  at  the  post-office,  and  getting  out  the  fire  engines 
of  Werburgh’s  parish,  we  beat  a few  watchmen,  and  went  peace- 
ably to  bed.” 

“Well,  not  being  an  Irishman,”  said  Trevanion,  “I’m  half 
disposed  to  think  that  even  our  present  purpose  is  nearly  as 
favorable  to  life  and  limb  ; but  here  comes  my  servant.  Well, 
John,  is  all  arranged,  and  the  carriage  ready?  ” 

Having  ascertained  that  the  carriage  was  in  waiting,  and  that 
the  small  box — brass-bound  and  Bramah-locked — reposed  with- 
in, we  paid  our  bill  and  departed.  A cold,  raw,  misty-looking 
morning,  with  masses  of  dark,  louring  clouds  overhead,  and 
channels  of  dark  and  murky  water  beneath,  were  the  pleasant 
prospects  which  met  us  as  we  issued  forth  from  the  cafe.  The 
lamps,  which  hung  suspended  midway  across  the  street — we 
speak  of  some  years  since — creaked,  with  a low  and  plaintive 
sound,  as  they  swung  backwards  and  forwards  in  the  wind.  Not 
a footstep  was  heard  in  the  street — nothing  but  the  heavy  patter 
of  the  rain  as  it  fell  ceaselessly  upon  the  broad  pavement.  It 
was,  indeed,  a most  depressing  and  dispiriting  accompaniment 
to  our  intended  excursion  : and  even  O’Leary,  who  seemed  to 
have  but  slight  sympathy  with  external  influences,  felt  it,  for  he 
spoke  but  little,  and  was  scarcely  ten  minutes  in  the  carriage 
till  he  was  sound  asleep.  This  was,  I confess,  a great  relief  to 
me  ; for,  however  impressed  I was,  and  to  this  hour  am,  with 
the  many  sterling  qualities  of  my  poor  friend,  yet,  I acknowledge, 
that  this  was  not  precisely  the  time  I should  have  cared  for  their 
exercise,  and  would  have  much  preferred  the  companionship  of 
a different  order  of  person,  even  though  less  long  acquainted 
with  him.  Trevanion  was,  of  all  others,  the  most  suitable  for 
this  purpose ; and  I felt  no  embarrassment  in  opening  my  mind 
freely  to  him  upon  subjects  which,  but  twenty-four  hours 
previous,  I could  not  have  imparted  to  a brother. 

There  is  no  such  unlocker  of  the  secrets  of  the  heart  as  the 
possibly  near  approach  of  death.  Indeed,  I question  if  a great 


294 


HARR  Y L ORREQUER, . 


deal  of  the  bitterness  the  thought  of  it  inspires  does  not  depend 
upon  that  very  circumstance.  The  reflection  that  the  long- 
treasured  mystery  of  our  lives  (and  who  is  there  without  some 
such?)  is  about  to  become  known,  and  the  secret  of  our  inmost 
heart  laid  bare,  is  in  itself  depressing.  Not  one  kind  word,  nor 
one  embracing  adieu,  to  those  we  are  to  leave  forever,  can  be 
spoken  or  written,  without  calling  up  its  own  story  of  half-for- 
gotten griefs,  or,  still  worse,  at  such  a moment,  of  happiness 
never  again  to  be  partaken  of. 

“ I cannot  explain  why/1  said  I to  Trevanion,  “ but  although 
it  has  unfortunately  been  pretty  often  my  lot  to  have  gone  out 
on  occasions  like  this,  both  as  principal  and  friend,  yet  never 
before  did  I feel  so  completely  depressed  and  low-spirited — and 
never,  in  fact,  did  so  many  thoughts  of  regret  arise  before  me 
for  much  of  the  past,  and  sorrow  for  the  chance  of  abandoning 
the  future ” 

“I  can  understand,”  said  Trevanion,  interrupting — “I  have 
heard  of  your  prospect  in  the  Callonby  family,  and  certainly, 
with  such  hopes,  I can  well  conceive  how  little  one  would  be 
disposed  to  brook  the  slightest  incident  which  could  interfere 
with  their  accomplishment ; but,  now  that  your  cousin  Guy’s 
pretensions  in  that  quarter  are  at  an  end,  I suppose,  from  all  I 
have  heard,  that  there  can  be  no  great  obstacle  to  yours.” 

44  Guy’s  pretensions  at  an  end  ! For  Heaven’s  sake  tell  me 
all  you  know  of  this  affair — for  up  to  this  moment  I am  in  utter 
ignorance  of  everything  regarding  his  position  in  the  Callonby 
family,” 

44  Unfortunately,”  replied  Trevanion,  44 1 know  but  little,  but 
still  that  little  is  authentic — Guy  himself  having  imparted  the 
secret  to  a very  intimate  friend  of  mine.  It  appears,  then,  that 
your  cousin,  having  heard  that  the  Callonbys  had  been  very 
civil  to  you  in  Ireland,  and  made  all  manner  of  advances  to  you 
— had  done  so  under  the  impression  that  you  were  the  other 
nephew  of  Sir  Guy,  and  consequently  the  heir  of  a large  fortune 
— that  is,  Guy  himself — and  that  they  had  never  discovered  the 
mistake  during  the  time  they  resided  in  Ireland,  when  they  not 
only  permitted,  but  even  encouraged  the  closest  intimacy  be- 
tween you  and  Lady  Jane.  Is  so  far  true?  ” 

44  I have  long  suspected  it.  Indeed,  in  no  other  way  I can 
account  for  the  reception  I met  with  from  the  Callonbys.  But 
is  it  possible  that  Lady  Jane  could  have  lent  herself  to  anything 
so  unworthy ” 

44  Pray  hear  me  out,”  said  Trevanion,  who  was  evidently 
struck  by  the  despondency  of  my  voice  and  manner.  44  Guy 
having  heard  of  their  mistake,  and  auguring  well  to  himself  from 


THE  DUEL . 


295 


this  evidence  of  their  disposition,  no  sooner  heard  of  their 
arrival  in  Paris,  than  he  came  over  here  and  got  introduced  to 
them.  From  that  time  he  scarcely  ever  left  their  house,  except 
to  accompany  them  into  society,  or  to  the  theatres.  It  is  said 
that  with  Lady  Jane  he  made  no  progress.  Her  manner,  at  the 
beginning  cold  and  formal,  became  daily  more  so  ; until,  at  last, 
he  was  half  disposed  to  abandon  the  pursuit — in  which,  by  the 
bye,  he  has  since  confessed,  ambitious  views  entered  more  than 
any  affection  for  the  lady — when  the  thought  struck  him  to 
benefit  by  what  he  supposed  at  first  to  be  the  great  bar  to  his 
success.  He  suddenly  pretended  to  be  only  desirous  of  inti- 
macy with  Lady  Jane,  from  having  heard  so  much  of  her  from 
you — affected  to  be  greatly  in  your  confidence — and,  in  fact, 
assumed  the  character  of  a friend  cognizant  of  all  your  feelings 
and  hopes,  and  ardently  desiring,  by  every  means  in  his  power, 

to  advance  your  interests ” 

“ And  was  it  thus  he  succeeded  ? ” I broke  in. 

“ ’Twas  thus  he  endeavored  to  succeed,”  said  Trevanion. 

“ Ah,  with  what  success  I but  too  well  know,”  said  I.  “ My 
uncle  himself  showed  me  a letter  from  Guy,  in  which  he  abso- 
lutely speaks  of  the  affair  as  settled,  and  talks  of  Lady  Jane  as 
about  to  be  his  wife.” 

“ That  may  be  all  quite  true ; but  a little  consideration  of 
Guy’s  tactics  will  show  what  he  intended  ; for  I find  that  he  in- 
duced your  uncle,  by  some  representations  of  his,  to  make  the 
most  handsome  proposals,  with  regard  to  the  marriage,  to  the 
Callonbys  ; and  that,  to  make  the  story  short,  nothing  but  the 
decided  refusal  of  Lady  Jane, — who  at  length  saw  through  his 
entire  game, — prevented  the  match.” 

“ And  then  she  did  refuse  him  ? ” said  I,  with  ill-repressed 
exultation. 

“ Of  that  there  can  be  no  doubt ; for  independently  of  all  the 
gossip  and  quizzing  upon  the  subject,  to  which  Guy  was  exposed 
in  the  coteries , he  made  little  secret  of  it  himself — openly  avow- 
ing that  he  did  not  consider  a repulse  a defeat,  and  that  he  re- 
solved to  sustain  the  siege  as  vigorously  as  ever.” 

However  interested  I felt  in  all  Trevanion  was  telling  me,  I 
could  not  help  falling  into  a train  of  thinking  over  my  first  ac- 
quaintance with  the  Callonbys.  There  are,  perhaps,  but  few 
things  more  humiliating  than  the  knowledge  that  any  attention 
or  consideration  we  have  met  with  has  been  paid  us  in  mistake 
for  another  ; and  in  the  very  proportion  that  they  were  prized 
before,  are  they  detested  when  the  truth  is  known  to  us. 

To  all  the  depressing  influences  these  thoughts  suggested, 
came  the  healing  balm  that  Lady  Jane  was  true  to  me — that 


296 


HARRY  LORREQUER . 


she,  at  least,  However  others  might  be  biassed  by  worldly  con- 
siderations— that  she  cared  for  me — for  myself  alone.  My 
reader  (alas  ! for  my  character  for  judgment)  knows  upon  how 
little  I founded  the  conviction  ; but  I have  often,  in  these  Con- 
fessions, avowed  my  especial  failing  to  be  a great  taste  for  self- 
deception  ; and  here  was  a capital  occasion  for  its  indul- 
gence. 

“ We  shall  have  abundant  time  to  discuss  this  later  on,”  said 
Trevanion,  laying  his  hand  upon  my  shoulder  to  rouse  my  wan- 
dering attention — “ for  now,  I perceive,  we  have  only  eight  min- 
utes to  spare.” 

As  he  spoke,  a dragoon  officer,  in  an  undress,  rode  up  to  the 
window  of  the  carriage,  and  looking  steadily  at  our  party  for  a 
few  seconds,  asked  if  we  were  “ Messieurs  les  Anglais;”  and,  al- 
most without  waiting  for  reply,  added,  “ You  had  better  not  go 
any  farther  in  your  carriage,  for  the  next  turn  of  the  road  will 
bring  you  in  sight  of  the  village.” 

We  accordingly  stopped  the  driver,  and  having  with  some 
difficulty  aroused  O’Leary,  got  out  upon  the  road.  The  stranger 
here  gave  his  horse  to  a groom,  and  proceeded  to  guide  us 
through  a corn-field  by  a narrow  path,  with  whose  windings  and 
crossings  he  appeared  quite  conversant.  We  at  length  reached 
the  brow  of  a little  hill,  from  which  an  extended  view  of  the 
country  lay  before  us,  showing  the  Seine  winding  its  tranquil 
course  between  the  richly  tilled  fields,  dotted  with  many  a pretty 
cottage.  Turning  abruptly  from  this  point,  our  guide  led  us,  by 
a narrow  and  steep  path,  into  a little  glen,  planted  with  poplars 
and  willows.  A small  stream  ran  through  this,  and  by  the  noise 
we  soon  detected  that  a mill  was  not  far  distant,  which  another 
turning  brought  us  at  once  in  front  of. 

And  here  I cannot  help  dwelling  upon  the  scene  which  met 
our  view.  In  the  porch  of  the  little  rural  mill  sat  two  gentle- 
men, one  of  whom  I immediately  recognized  as  the  person  who 
had  waited  upon  me,  and  the  other  I rightly  conjectured  to  be 
my  adversary.  Before  them  stood  a small  table,  covered  with 
a spotless  napkin,  upon  which  a breakfast  equipage  was  spread 
— a most  inviting  melon  and  a long,  slender-necked  bottle,  re- 
posing in  a little  ice-pail,  forming  part  of  the  picture.  My  oppo- 
nent was  coolly  enjoying  his  cigar — a half-finished  cup  of  coffee 
lay  beside  him — his  friend  was  occupied  in  examining  the  caps 
of  the  duelling  pistols,  which  were  placed  upon  a chair.  No 
sooner  had  we  turned  the  angle  which  brought  us  in  view,  than 
they  both  rose,  and  taking  off  their  hats  with  much  courtesy, 
bade  us  good-morning. 

“ May  I offer  you  a cup  of  coffee  ? ” said  Monsieur  de  Joi> 


THE  DUEL.  297 

court  to  me,  as  I came  up,  at  the  same  time  filling  it  out,  and 
pushing  over  a little  flask  of  Cognac  towards  me. 

A look  from  Trevanion  decided  my  acceptance  of  the  proffered 
civility,  and  I seated  myself  in  the  chair  beside  the  baron. 
Trevanion  meanwhile  had  engaged  my  adversary  in  conversa- 
tion along  with  the  stranger,  who  had  been  our  guide,  leaving 
O’Leary  alone  unoccupied,  which,  however,  he  did  not  long  re- 
main ; for,  although  uninvited  by  the  others,  he  seized  a knife 
and  fork,  and  commenced  a vigorous  attack  upon  a partridge 
pie  near  him  ; and,  with  equal  absence  of  ceremony,  uncorked 
the  champagne  and  filled  out  a foaming  goblet,  nearly  one-third 
of  the  whole  bottle,  adding, — 

“ I think,  Mr.  Lorrequer,  there’s  nothing  like  showing  them 
that  we  are  just  as  cool  and  unconcerned  as  themselves.” 

If  I might  judge  from  the  looks  of  the  party,  a happier  mode 
of  convincing  them  of  our  “ free  and  easy  ” feelings  could  not 
possibly  have  been  discovered.  From  any  mortification  this 
proceeding  might  have  caused  me,  I was  speedily  relieved  by 
Trevanion  calling  O’Leary  to  one  side,  while  he  explained  to 
him  that  he  must  nominally  act  as  second  on  the  ground,  as 
Trevanion,  being  a resident  in  Paris,  might  become  liable  to  a 
prosecution,  should  anything  serious  arise,  while  O’Leary,  as  a 
mere  passer  through,  could  cross  the  country  into  Germany,  and 
avoid  all  trouble. 

O’Leary  at  once  acceded — perhaps  the  more  readily  because 
he  expected  to  be  allowed  to  return  to  his  breakfast — but  in 
this  he  soon  found  himself  mistaken,  for  the  whole  party  now 
rose,  and,  preceded  by  the  baron,  followed  the  course  of  the 
little  stream. 

After  about  five  minutes’  walking,  we  found  ourselves  at  the 
outlet  of  the  glen,  which  was  formed  by  a large  stone  quarry, 
making  a species  of  amphitheatre,  with  lofty  walls  of  rugged 
granite,  rising  thirty  or  forty  feet  on  either  side  of  us.  The 
ground  was  smooth  and  level  as  a boarded  floor,  and  certainly 
to  amateurs  in  these  sort  of  matters,  presented  a most  perfect 
spot  for  a “ meeting.” 

The  stranger  who  had  just  joined  us,  could  not  help  remark- 
ing our  looks  of  satisfaction  at  the  choice  of  the  ground,  and 
observed  to  me, — 

“ This  is  not  the  first  affair  that  this  little  spot  has  witnessed : 
and  the  ‘Mill  of  St.  Cloud’  is,  I think,  the  very  best  ‘ meet ’ 
about  Paris.” 

Trevanion  who,  during  these  few  minutes,  had  been  engaged 
with  De  Joncourt,  now  drew  me  aside. 

“ Well,  Lorrequer,  have  you  any  recollection  now  of  having 


298  HARR  Y LORREQUER. 

seen  your  opponent  before  ? or  can  you  make  a guess  at  the 
source  of  all  this  ? ” 

“Never  till  this  instant,”  said  I,  “have  I beheld  him,”  as  I 
looked  towards  the  tall,  stoutly-built  figure  of  my  adversary,  who 
was  very  leisurely  detaching  a cordon  from  his  tightly-fitting 
frock,  doubtless  to  prevent  its  attracting  my  aim. 

“ Well,  never  mind,  I shall  manage  everything  properly. 
What  can  you  do  with  the  small  sword,  for  they  have  rapiers 
at  the  mill  ? ” 

“Nothing  whatever;  I have  not  fenced  since  I was  a boy.” 

“No  matter  then,  we’ll  fight  at  a barriere.  I know  they’re 
not  prepared  for  that  from  Englishmen ; so  just  step  on  one 
side  now,  and  leave  me  to  talk  it  over.” 

As  the  limited  nature  of  the  ground  did  not  permit  me  to  re- 
tire to  a distance,  I became  involuntarily  aware  of  a dialogue, 
which  even  the  seriousness  of  the  moment  could  scarcely  keep 
me  from  laughing  at,  outright. 

It  was  necessary,  for  the  sake  of  avoiding  any  possible  legal 
difficulty  in  the  result,  that  O’Leary  should  give  his  assent  to 
every  step  of  the  arrangement ; and  being  almost  totally  ignor- 
ant of  French,  Trevanion  had  not  only  to  translate  for  him,  but 
also  to  render  in  reply  O’Leary’s  own  comments  or  objections 
to  the  propositions  of  the  others. 

“Then  it  is  agreed — we  fight  at  a barriered  said  Captain  de 
Joncourt. 

“ What’s  that,  Trevanion  ? ” 

“We  have  agreed  to  place  the  mat  a barriered  replied  Tre- 
vanion. 

“That’s  strange,”  muttered  O’Leary  to  himself,  who,  know- 
ing that  the  word  meant  a “ turnpike,”  never  supposed  it  had 
any  other  signification. 

“ Vingt-quatre  pas,  n’est-ce-pas  ? ” said  De  Joncourt. 

“Too  far,”  interposed  Trevanion. 

“What  does  he  say  now  ? ” asked  O’Leary. 

“ Twenty-four  paces  for  the  distance.” 

“Twenty-four  of  my  teeth  he  means,”  said  O’Leary,  snapping 
his  fingers.  “ What  does  he  think  of  the  length  of  Sackville 
Street  ? Ask  him  that,  will  ye  ? ” 

“What  says  Monsieur  ? ” said  the  Frenchman. 

“ He  thinks  the  distance  much  too  great.” 

“ He  may  be  mistaken,”  said  the  Captain,  half  sneeringly. 
“ My  friend  is  de  la  premiere  force .” 

“That  must  be  something  impudent,  from  your  looks,  Mr. 
Trevanion.  Isn’t  it  a thousand  pities  I can’t  speak  French  ? ” 


THE  DUEL. 


299 


“ What  say  you,  then,  to  twelve  paces  ? Fire  together,  and  two 
shots  each,  if  the  first  fire  be  inconclusive,”  said  Trevanion. 

“ And  if  necessary,”  added  the  Frenchman,  carelessly,  “ con- 
clude with  these  ” — touching  the  swords  with  his  foot  as  he  spoke. 

“ The  choice  of  the  weapon  lies  with  us,  I opine,”  replied 
Trevanion.  “We  have  already  named  pistols,  and  by  them  we 
shall  decide  this  matter.” 

It  was  at  length,  after  innumerable  objections,  agreed  upon 
that  we  should  be  placed  back  to  back,  and,  at  a word  given, 
each  walk  forward  to  a certain  distance  marked  out  by  a stone, 
where  we  were  to  halt,  and  at  the  signal  “ Un ,”  “ Deux”  turn 
round  and  fire. 

This,  which  is  essentially  a French  invention  in  duelling,  was 
perfectly  new  to  me,  but  by  no  means  so  to  Trevanion,  who  was 
fully  aware  of  the  immense  consequence  of  not  giving  even  a 
momentary  opportunity  for  aim  to  my  antagonist ; and  in  this 
mode  of  firing  the  most  practised  and  deadly  shot  is  liable  to 
err — particularly  if  the  signal  be  given  quickly. 

While  Trevanion  and  the  Captain  were  measuring  out  the 
ground,  a little  circumstance  which  was  enacted  near  me  was 
certainly  not  over-calculated  to  strengthen  my  nerve.  The 
stranger  who  had  led  us  to  the  ground  had  begun  to  examine 
the  pistols,  and  finding  that  one  of  them  was  loaded,  turned 
towards  my  adversary,  saying,  “ De  Haultpenne,  you  have  for- 
gotten to  draw  the  charge.  Come,  let  us  see  what  vein  you 
are  in.”  At  the  same  time,  drawing  off  his  large  cavalry  glove, 
he  handed  the  pistol  to  his  friend. 

“A  double  Napoleon  you  don’t  hit  the  thumb.” 

“ Done,”  said  the  other,  adjusting  the  weapon  in  his  hand. 

The  action  was  scarcely  performed,  when  the  better  flung  the 
glove  into  the  air  with  all  his  force.  My  opponent  raised  his 
pistol,  waited  for  an  instant,  till  the  glove,  having  attained  its 
greatest  height,  turned  to  fall  again.  Then  click  went  the  trig- 
ger— the  glove  turned  round  and  round  half  a dozen  times,  and 
fell  about  twenty  yards  off  and  the  thumb  was  found  cut  clearly 
off  at  the  juncture  with  the  hand. 

This — which  did  not  occupy  half  as  long  as  I have  spent  in 
recounting  it — was  certainly  a pleasant  introduction  to  standing 
at  fifteen  yards  from  the  principal  actor  ; and  I should  doubtless 
have  felt  it  in  all  its  force,  had  not  my  attention  been  drawn  off 
by  the  ludicrous  expression  of  grief  in  O’Leary’s  countenance, 
who  evidently  regarded  me  as  already  defunct. 

“ Now,  Lorrequer,  we  are  ready,”  said  Trevanion,  coming 
forward;  and  then,  lowering  his  voice,  added,  “All  is  in  your 
favor-  I have  won  the  ‘word,’  which  I shall  give  the  moment 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


300 

you  halt.  So  turn  and  fire  at  once  : be  sure  not  to  go  too  far 
round  in  the  turn — that  is  the  invariable  error  in  this  mode  of 
firing  : only,  no  hurry  ! — be  calm.” 

“Now,  messieurs,”  said  De  Joncourt,  as  he  approached  with 
his  friend  leaning  upon  his  arm,  and  placed  him  in  the  spot  al- 
lotted to  him.  Trevanion  then  took  my  arm,  and  placed  me 
back  to  back  to  my  antagonist.  As  I took  up  my  ground,  it  so 
chanced  that  my  adversary’s  spur  slightly  grazed  me,  upon  which 
he  immediately  turned  round,  and  with  the  most  engaging 
smile,  begged  a “ thousand  pardons,”  and  hoped  I was  not- 
hurt. 

O’Leary,  who  saw  the  incident,  and  guessed  the  action  aright, 
called  out, — 

“ Oh,  the  cold-blooded  villain  ! the  devil  a chance  for  you, 
Mr.  Lorrequer.” 

“ Messieurs,  your  pistols,”  said  De  Joncourt,  who,  as  he 
handed  the  weapons,  and  repeated  once  more  the  conditions  of 
the  combat,  gave  the  word  to  march. 

I now  walked  slowly  forward  to  the  place  marked  out  by  the 
stone ; but  it  seemed  that  I must  have  been  in  advance  of  my 
opponent,  for  I remember  some  seconds  elapsed  before  Tre- 
vanion coughed  slightly,  and  then  with  a clear,  full  voice  called 
out,  uUn ,”  “ Deux  /”  I had  scarcely  turned  myself  half  round, 
when  my  right  arm  was  suddenly  lifted  up,  as  if  by  a galvanic 
shock.  My  pistol  jerked  upwards,  and  exploded  the  same  mo- 
ment, and  then  dropped  powerlessly  from  my  hand,  which  I now 
felt  was  covered  with  warm  blood  from  a wound  near  the  elbow. 
From  the  acute  but  momentary  pang  this  gave  me,  my  attention 
was  soon  called  off  ; for  scarcely  had  my  arm  been  struck,  when 
a loud  clattering  noise  to  the  left  induced  me  to  turn,  and  then, 
to  my  astonishment,  I saw  my  friend  O’Leary  about  twelve  feet 
from  the  ground,  hanging  on  by  some  ash  twigs  that  grew  from 
the  clefts  of  the  granite.  Fragments  of  broken  rock  were  falling 
aiound  him,  and  his  own  position  momentarily  threatened  a 
downfall.  He  was  screaming  with  all  his  might ; but  what  he 
said  was  entirely  lost  in  the  shouts  of  laughter  of  Trevanion  and 
the  Frenchmen,,  who  could  scarcely  stand  with  the  immoderate 
exuberance  of  their  mirth. 

I had  no  time  to  run  to  his  aid — which,  although  wounded,  I 
should  have  done — when  the  branch  he  clung  to,  slowly  yielded 
with  his  weight,  and  the  round,  plump  figure  of  my  poor  friend 
rolled  over  the  little  cleft  of  rock,  and,  after  a few  faint  struggles, 
came  tumbling  heavily  down,  and  at  last  lay  peaceably  in  the 
deep  heather  at  the  bottom — his  cries  the  whole  time  being  loud 
enough  to  rise  even  above  the  vociferous  laughter  of  the  others. 


THE  DUEL. 


301 


I now  ran  forward,  as  did  Trevanion,  when  O’Leary,  turning 
his  eyes  towards  me,  said,  in  the  most  piteous  manner, — 

“ Mr.  Lorrequer,  I forgive  you — here  is  my  hand — bad  luck 
to  their  French  way  of  fighting,  that’s  all — it’s  only  good  for 
killing  one’s  friend.  I thought  I was  safe  up  there,  come  what 
might.” 

“ My  dear  O’Leary,”  said  I,  in  an  agony,  which  prevented 
my  minding  the  laughing  faces  around  me,  “ surely  you  don’t 
mean  to  say  that  I have  wounded  you  ? ” 

“ No,  dear,  not  wounded,  only  killed  me  outright — through 
'die  brain  it  must  be,  from  the  torture  I’m  suffering.” 

The  shout  with  which  this  speech  was  received,  sufficiently 
aroused  me  ; while  Trevanion,  with  a voice  nearly  choked  with 
laughter,  said, — 

“ Why,  Lorrequer,  did  you  not  see  that  your  pistol,  on  being 
struck,  threw  your  ball  high  up  on  the  quarry;  fortunately, 
however,  about  a foot  and  a half  above  Mr.  O’Leary’s  head, 
whose  most  serious  wounds  are  his  scratched  hands  and  bruised 
bones  from  his  tumble.” 

This  explanation,  which  was  perfectly  satisfactory  to  me,  was 
by  no  means  so  consoling  to  poor  O’Leary,  who  lay  quite  un- 
conscious to  all  around,  moaning  in  the  most  melancholy  man- 
ner. Some  of  the  blood,  which  continued  to  flow  fast  from  my 
wound,  having  dropped  upon  his  face,  roused  him  a little — but 
only  to  increase  his  lamentation  for  his  own  destiny,  which  he 
believed  was  fast  accomplishing. 

<c  Through  the  skull — clean  through  the  skull — and  preserving 
my  senses  to  the  last ! Mr.  Lorrequer,  stoop  down — it  is  a 
dying  man  asks  you — don’t  refuse  me  a last  request.  There’s 
neither  luck  nor  grace,  honor  nor  glory  in  such  a way  of  fight- 
ing— so  just  promise  me  you’ll  shoot  that  grinning  baboon  there, 
when  he’s  going  off  the  ground,  since  it’s  the  fashion  to  fire  at  a 
man  with  his  back  to  you.  Bring  him  down  and  I’ll  die  easy.” 
And  with  these  words  he  closed  his  eyes,  and  straightened 
out  his  legs— stretched  his  arms  on  either  side,  and  arranged 
himself  as  much  corpse  fashion  as  the  circumstances  of  the 
ground  would  pc nv it— while  I now  freely  participated  in  the 
mirth  of  the  others,  which,  loud  and  boisterous  as  it  was,  never 
reached  the  ears  of  O’Leary. 

My  arm  had  now  become  so  painful,  that  I was  obliged  to 
ask  Trevanion  to  assist  me  in  getting  off  my  coat  The  sur- 
prise of  the  Frenchmen  on  learning  that  I was  wounded  was 
very  considerable — O’Leary’s  catastrophe  having  exclusively 
engaged  all  attention.  My  arm  was  now  examined,  when  it  was 
discovered  that  the  ball  had  passed  through  fr^m  one  side  to 


302 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


the  other,  without  apparently  touching  the  bone  : the  bullet  and 
the  portion  of  my  coat  carried  in  by  it  both  lay  in  my  sleeve. 
The  only  serious  consequence  to  be  apprehended  was  the 
wound  of  the  blood-vessel,  which  continued  to  pour  forth  blood 
unceasingly,  and  I was  just  surgeon  enough  to  guess  that  an 
artery  had  been  cut. 

Trevanion  bound  his  handkerchief  tightly  across  the  wound 
and  assisted  me  to  the  high  road,  which,  so  sudden  was  the  loss 
of  blood,  I reached  with  difficulty.  During  all  these  proceedings, 
nothing  could  be  possibly  more  kind  and  considerate  than  the 
conduct  of  our  opponents.  All  the  bold  and  swaggering  air 
which  they  had  deemed  the  essentiel  before,  at  once  fled,  and  in 
its  place  we  found  the  most  gentlemanlike  attention  and  true 
politeness. 

As  soon  as  I was  enabled  to  speak  upon  the  matter,  I begged 
Trevanion  to  look  to  poor  O’Leary,  who  still  lay  upon  the 
ground  in  a state  of  perfect  unconsciousness.  Captain  de 
Joncourt,  on  hearing  my  wish,  at  once  returned  to  the  quarry, 
and,  with  the  greatest  difficulty,  persuaded  my  friend  to  rise 
and  endeavor  to  walk,  which  at  last  he  did  attempt,  calling 
him  to  bear  witness  that  it  perhaps  was  the  only  case  on  record 
where  a man  with  a bullet  in  his  brain  had  made  such  an 
exertion. 

With  a view  to  my  comfort  and  quiet,  they  got  him  into 
d’Haultpenne’s  cab;  and  having  undertaken  to  send  Dupuy- 
tren  to  me  immediately  on  my  reaching  Paris,  took  their  leave, 
and  Trevanion  and  I set  out  homeward. 

Not  all  my  exhaustion  and  debility — nor  even  the  acute  pain  I 
was  suffering,  could  prevent  my  laughing  at  O’Leary’s  adventure  ; 
and  it  required  all  Trevanion’s  prudence  to  prevent  my  indulging 
too  far  in  my  recollection  of  it. 

When  we  reached  Meurice’s,  I found  Dupuytren  in  waiting, 
who  immediately  pronounced  the  main  artery  of  the  limb  as 
wounded;  and  almost  as  instantaneously  proceeded  to  pass  a 
ligature  round  it.  This  painful  business  being  concluded,  I 
was  placed  upon  a sofa,  and  being  plentifully  supplied  with 
lemonade,  and  enjoined  to  keep  quiet,  left  to  my  own  meditations, 
such  as  they  were,  till  evening — Trevanion  having  taken  upon 
him  to  apologize  for  our  absence  at  Mrs.  Bingham’s  cUi'Antr, 
and  O’Leary  being  fast  asleep  in  his  own  apartment. 


EARLY  RECOLLECTIONS. 


303 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

EARLY  RECOLLECTIONS — A FIRST  LOVE. 

I know  of  no  sensations  so  very  nearly  alike,  as  those  felt 
on  awaking  after  very  sudden  and  profuse  loss  of  blood,  and 
those  resulting  from  a large  dose  of  opium.  The  dizziness, 
the  confusion,  and  the  abstraction  at  first,  gradually  yielding, 
as  the  senses  became  clearer,  to  a vague  and  indistinct  con- 
sciousness ; then,  the  strange  mistiness,  in  which  fact  and  fiction 
are  wrapped  up — the  confounding  of  persons,  and  places,  and 
times,  not  so  as  to  embarrass  and  annoy — for  the  very  debility 
you  feel  subdues  all  irritation — but  rather  to  present  a panoramic 
picture  of  odd  and  incongruous  events  more  pleasing  than 
otherwise. 

Of  the  circumstances  by  which  I was  thus  brought  to  a sick 
couch,  I had  not  even  the  most  vague  recollection — the  faces 
and  the  dress  of  all  those  I had  lately  seen  were  vividly  before 
me  ; but  how,  and  for  what  purpose  I knew  not.  Something  in 
their  kindness  and  attention  had  left  an  agreeable  impression 
upon  my  mind,  and  without  being  able,  or  even  attempting  to 
trace  it,  I felt  happy  in  the  thought.  While  thus  the  “ hour 
before  ” was  dim  and  indistinct,  the  events  of  years  past  were 
vividly  and  brightly  pictured  before  me ; and  strange  too,  the 
more  remote  the  period,  the  more  did  it  seem  palpable  and 
present  to  my  imagination.  For  so  it  is,  there  is  in  memory  a 
species  of  mental  long-sightedness,  which,  though  blind  to  the 
object  close  beside  you,  can  reach  the  blue  mountains  and  the 
starry  skies,  which  lie  full  many  a league  away.  Is  this  a 
malady  ? or  is  it  rather  a providential  gift  to  alleviate  the  tedious 
hours  of  the  sick-bed,  and  cheer  the  lonely  sufferer,  whose 
thoughts  are  his  only  realm  ? 

My  school-boy  days,  in  all  their  holiday  excitement ; the  bank 
where  I had  culled  the  earliest  cowslips  of  the  year ; the  clear 
but  rapid  stream,  where  days  long  I have  watched  the  speckled 
trout,  as  they  swam  peacefully  beneath,  or  shook  their  bright 
fins  in  the  gay  sunshine ; the  gorgeous  dragon-fly  that  played 
above  the  water,  and  dipped  his  bright  wings  in  its  ripple — they 
were  all  before  me.  And  then  came  the  thought  of  school  itself, 
with  its  little  world  of  boyish  cares  and  emulations ; the  early 
imbibed  passion  for  success  ; the  ardent  longing  for  superiority  ; 
the  high  and  swelling  feeling  of  the  heart,  as  home  drew  near, 
to  think  that  I had  gained  the  wished-for  prize — the  object  of 
many  an  hour’s  toil — the  thought  of  many  a long  night’s  dream ; 


304 


HARRY  L ORREQ UER . 


my  father’s  smile  ; my  mother’s  kiss  j Oh  ! what  a very  world 
of  tender  memory  that  one  thought  suggests ; for  what  are  all 
our  later  successes  in  life — how  bright  soever  our  fortune  be — 
compared  with  the  early  triumphs  of  our  infancy  ? Where, 
among  the  jealous  rivalry  of  some,  the  cold  and  half-wrung 
praise  of  others,  the  selfish  and  unsympathizing  regard  of  all, 
shall  we  find  anything  to  repay  us  for  the  swelling  ecstasy  of 
our  young  hearts,  as  those  who  have  cradled  and  loved  us  grow 
proud  in  our  successes  ? For  myself,  a life  that  has  failed  in 
every  prestige  of  those  that  prophesied  favorably,  years  that 
have  followed  on  each  other  only  to  blight  the  promise  that 
kind  and  well-wishing  friends  foretold,  leave  but  little  to  dwell 
upon,  that  can  be  reckoned  as  success.  And  yet,  some  moments 
I have  had,  which  half  seemed  to  realize  my  early  dream  of 
ambition,  and  rouse  my  spirit  within  me ; but  what  were  they 
all  compared  to  my  boyish  glories  ? what  the  passing  excitement 
one’s  own  heart  inspires  in  its  lonely  and  selfish  solitude,  when 
compared  with  that  little  world  of  sympathy  and  love  our  early 
home  teemed  with,  as,  proud  in  some  trifling  distinction,  we 
fell  into  a mother’s  arms,  and  heard  our  father’s  “ God  bless 
you,  boy  ? ” No,  no  ; the  world  has  no  requital  for  this.  It  is 
like  the  bright  day-spring,  which,  as  its  glories  gild  the  east, 
display  before  us  a whole  world  of  beauty  and  promise — 
blighted  hopes  have  not  withered,  false  friendships  have  not 
scathed,  cold,  selfish  interest  has  not  yet  hardened  our 
hearts,  or  dried  up  our  affections,  and  we  are  indeed  happy ; 
but  equally  like  the  burst  of  morning  is  it  fleeting  and  short- 
lived : and  equally  so,  too,  does  it  pass  away,  never,  never  to 
return. 

From  thoughts  like  these  my  mind  wandered  on  to  more  ad- 
vanced years,  when,  emerging  from  very  boyhood,  I half  be- 
lieved myself  a man,  and  was  fully  convinced  I was  in  love. 

Perhaps,  after  all,  for  the  time  it  lasted — ten  days,  I think — it 
was  the  most  sincere  passion  I ever  felt.  I had  been  spending 
some  weeks  at  a small  watering-place  in  Wales  with  some  rela- 
tives of  my  mother.  There  were,  as  might  be  supposed,  but 
few  “ distractions  ” in  such  a place,  save  the  scenery,  and  an  oc- 
casional day’s  fishing  in  the  little  river  of  Dolgelly,  which  ran 
near.  In  all  these  little  rambles  which  the  younger  portion  of 
the  family  made  together,  frequent  mention  was  ever  being 
made  of  a visit  from  a very  dear  cousin,  and  to  which  all  looked 
with  the  greatest  eagerness — the  elder  ones  of  the  party  with  a 
certain  air  of  quiet  pleasure,  as  though  they  knew  more  than 
they  said,  and  the  younger  with  all  the  childish  exuberance  of 
youthful  delight.  Clara  Mourtray  seemed  to  be,  from  all  I was 


EARL  V RECOLLECTIONS. 


305 


hourly  hearing,  the  very  paragon  and  pattern  of  everything.  If 
any  one  was  praised  for  beauty,  Clara  was  immediately  pro- 
nounced much  prettier — did  any  one  sing,  Clara’s  voice  and 
taste  were  far  superior.  In  our  homeward  walk,  should  the 
shadows  of  the  dark  hills  fall  with  a picturesque  effect  upon  the 
blue  lake,  some  one  was  sure  to  say,  “ Oh  ! how  Clara  would 
like  to  sketch  that.”  In  short  there  was  no  charm  nor  accom- 
plishment ever  the  gift  of  woman,  that  Clara  did  not  possess : 
or,  what  amounted  pretty  much  to  the  same  thing,  that  my  rel- 
atives did  not  implicitly  give  her  credit  for.  The  constantly 
recurring  praises  of  the  same  person  affect  us  always  differently 
as  we  go  on  in  life.  In  youth  the  prevailing  sentiment  is  an  ar- 
dent desire  to  see  the  prodigy  of  whom  we  have  heard  so  much 
— in  after  years,  heartily  to  detest  what  hourly  hurts  our  self- 
love  by  comparisons.  We  would  take  any  steps  to  avoid  meet- 
ing what  we  have  inwardly  decreed  to  be  a “ bore.”  The 
former  was  my  course;  and  though  my  curiosity  was  certainly 
very  great,  I had  made  up  my  mind  to  as  great  a disappoint- 
ment, and  half  wished  for  the  long  arrival  as  a means  of  criticiz- 
ing what  they  could  see  no  fault  in. 

The  wished-for  evening  at  length  came,  and  we  all  set  out 
upon  a walk  to  meet  the  carriage  which  was  to  bring  the  long- 
wished  for  Clara  among  us.  We  had  not  walked  above 
a mile  when  the  eager  eye  of  the  foremost  detected  a cloud 
of  dust  upon  the  road  at  some  distance  ; and,  after  a few 
minutes  more,  four  posters  were  seen  coming  along  at  a tre- 
mendous rate.  Then  next  moment  she  was  making  the  tour 
of  about  a dozen  uncles,  aunts,  cousins,  and  cousines , none  of 
whom,  it  appeared  to  me,  felt  any  peculiar  desire  to  surrender 
the  hearty  embrace  to  the  next  of  kin  in  succession.  At  last 
she  came  to  me,  when,  perhaps,  in  the  confusion  of  the  moment, 
nor  exactly  remembering  whether  or  not  she  had  seen  me  before, 
she  stood  for  a moment  silent — a deep  blush  mantling  her 
lovely  cheek — masses  of  waving  brown  hair  disordered  and  float- 
ing upon  her  shoulders — her  large  and  liquid  blue  eyes  beaming 
upon  me.  One  look  was  enough.  I was  deeply — irretrievably 
in  love. 

“ Our  cousin  Harry — Harry  Lorrequer — wild  Harry,  as  we 
used  to  call  him,  Clara,”  said  one  of  the  girls  introducing 
me. 

She  held  out  her  hand,  and  said  something  with  a smile. 
What,  I know  not — nor  can  I tell  how  I replied  ; but  some- 
thing absurd  it  must  have  been,  for  they  all  * laughed  heartily, 
and  the  worthy  papa  himself  tapped  my  shoulder  jestingly,  add 
ing  — 

20 


3°6 


HARRY  LORREQUER . 


“ Never  mind,  Harry — you  will  do  better  one  day,  or  I am 
much  mistaken  in  you.” 

Whether  I was  conscious  that  I had  behaved  foolishly  or  not, 
I cannot  well  say  ; but  the  whole  of  that  night  I thought  over 
plans  innumerable  how  I should  succeed  in  putting  myself 
forward  before  “ Cousin  Clara/’  and  vindicating  myself  against 
any  imputation  of  schoolboy  mannerism  that  my  first  appear- 
ance might  have  caused. 

The  next  day  we  remained  at  home.  Clara  was  too  much  fa- 
tigued to  walk  out,  and  none  of  us  would  leave  her.  What  a 
day  of  happiness  that  was  ! I knew  something  of  music,  and 
could  sing  a second.  Clara  was  delighted  at  this,  for  the  others 
had  not  cultivated  singing  much.  We  therefore  spent  part  of 
the  morning  in  this  way.  Then,  she  produced  her  sketch-book, 
and  I brought  out  mine,  and  we  had  a mutual  interchange  of 
prisoners.  What  cutting  out  of  leaves  and  detaching  of  rice- 
paper  landscapes  ! Then,  she  came  out  upon  the  lawn  to  see 
my  pony  leap,  and  promised  to  ride  him  the  following  day. 
She  patted  the  grayhounds,  and  said  Gypsy,  which  was  mine, 
was  the  prettiest.  In  a word,  before  night  fell  Clara  had  won 
my  heart  in  its  every  fibre,  and  I went  to  my  room  the  very  hap- 
piest of  mortals. 

I need  not  chronicle  my  next  three  days — to  me  the  most 
glorious  trois  jours  of  my  life.  Clara  had  evidently  singled  me 
out  and  preferred  me  to  all  the  rest.  It  was  beside  me  she  rode 
— upon  my  arm  she  leaned  in  walking — and,  to  fill  me  with  de- 
light unutterable,  I overheard  her  say  to  my  uncle,  “ Oh  ! I doat 
upon  dear  Harry  ! And  it  is  so  pleasant,  for  I’m  sure  Mortimer 
will  be  so  jealous.” 

“ And  who  is  Mortimer  ? ” thought  I ; “ he  is  a new  charac- 
ter in  the  piece,  of  whom  we  have  seen  nothing.” 

I was  not  long'in  doubt  upon  this  head,  for  that  very  day,  at 
dinner,  the  identical  Mortimer  presented  himself.  He  was  a fine, 
dashing-looking,  soldier-like  fellow,  of  about  thirty-five,  with  a 
heavy  moustache,  and  a bronzed  cheek — rather  grave  in  his 
manner,  but  still  perfectly  good-natured,  and  when  he  smiled 
showing  a most  handsome  set  of  regular  teeth.  Clara  seemed 
less  pleased  (I  thought)  at  his  coming  than  the  others,  and  took 
pleasure  in  tormenting  him  by  a thousand  pettish  and  frivolous 
ways,  which  I was  sorry  for,  as  I thought  he  did  not  like  it ; and 
used  to  look  half  chidingly  at  her  from  time  to  time,  but  with- 
out any  effect,  for  she  just  went  on  as  before,  and  generally 
ended  by  taking  my  arm  and  saying,  u Come  away,  Harry  ; you 
always  are  kind,  and  never  look  sulky.  I can  agree  with  you” 
These  were  delightful  words  for  me  to  listen  to,  but  I could  not 


EARLY  RECOLLECTIONS. 


3°7 


hear  them  without  feeling  for  him,  who  evidently  was  pained  by 
Clara’s  avowed  preference  for  me  ; and  whose  years — for  1 
thought  thirty-five  at  that  time  a little  verging  upon  the  patri- 
archal— entitled  him  to  more  respect. 

“ Well,”  thought  I,  one  evening,  as  this  game  had  been  car- 
ried.rather  farther  than  usual,  “ I hope  she  is  content  now,  for  cer- 
tainly Mortimer  is  jealous ; ” and  the  result  proved  it,  for  the 
whole  of  the  following  day  he  absented  himself,  and  never  came 
back  till  late  in  the  evening.  He  had  been,  I found,  from  a 
chance  observation  I overheard,  at  the  bishop’s  palace,  and  the 
bishop  himself,  I learned,  was  to  breakfast  with  us  in  the  morn- 
ing. 

“ Harry,  I have  a commission  for  you,”  said  Clara.  “ You 
must  get  up  very  early  to-morrow,  and  climb  the  Cader  moun- 
tain, and  bring  me  a grand  bouquet  of  the  blue  and  purple  heath 
that  I liked  so  much  the  last  time  I was  there.  Mind  very 
early,  for  I intend  to  surprise  the  bishop  to-morrow  with  my 
taste  in  a nosegay.” 

The  sun  had  scarcely  risen  as  I sprang  from  my  bed,  and 
starred  upon  my  errand.  Oh  ! the  glorious  beauty  of  that  morn- 
ing’s walk.  As  I climbed  the  mountain,  the  deep  mists  lay  upon 
all  around,  and  except  the  path  I was  treading,  nothing  was  vis- 
ible ; but  before  I reached  the  top,  the  heavy  masses  of  vapor 
were  yielding  to  the  influence  of  the  sun  ; and  as  they  rolled 
from  the  valleys  up  the  mountain  sides,  were  every  instant 
opening  new  glens  and  ravines  beneath  me — bright  in  all  their 
verdure,  and  speckled  with  sheep,  whose  tinkling  bells  reached 
me  even  where  I stood. 

I counted  above  twenty  lakes  at  different  levels,  below  me ; 
some,  brilliant,  and  shining  like  polished  mirrors ; others  not 
less  beautiful,  dark  and  solemn  with  some  mighty  mountain 
shadow.  As  I looked  landward,  the  mountains  reared  their 
huge  crests,  one  above  the  other,  to  the  farthest  any  eye  could 
reach.  Towards  the  opposite  side,  the  calm  and  tranquil  sea 
lay  beneath  me,  bathed  in  the  yellow  gold  of  a rising  sun  ; a few 
ships  were  peaceably  lying  at  anchor  in  the  bay ; and  the  only 
thing  in  motion  was  a row-boat,  the  heavy  monotonous  stroke  of 
whose  oars  rose  in  the  stillness  of  the  morning  air.  Not  a single 
habitation  of  man  could  I descry,  nor  any  vestige  of  a human 
being,  except  that  mass  of  something  upon  a rock  fardown  be- 
neath were  one,  and  I think  it  must  have  been,  for  I saw  a sheep- 
dog ever  returning  again  and  again  to  the  same  spot. 

My  bouquet  was  gathered  ; the  gentian  of  the  Alps,  which  is 
found  here,  also  contributing  its  evidence  to  show  where  I had 
been  to  seek  it,  and  I turned  home. 


308 


HARRY  LORRE QUER. 


The  family  were  at  breakfast  as  I entered  ; at  least  so  the  serv- 
ants said,  for  I only  remembered  then  that  the  bishop  was  our 
guest,  and  that  I could  not  present  myself  without  some  slight 
attention  to  my  dress.  I hastened  to  my  room,  and  scarcely  had 
I finished,  when  one  of  my  cousins,  a little  girl  of  eight  years, 
came  to  the  door  and  said, — 

“ Harry,  come  down,  Clara  wants  you.” 

I rushed  down  stairs,  and  as  I entered  the  breakfast-parlor, 
stood  still  with  surprise.  The  ladies  were  all  dressed  in  white, 
and  even  my  little  cousin  wore  a gala  costume  that  almost 
amazed  me. 

“ My  bouquet,  Harry  ; I hope  you  have  not  forgotten  it,”  said 
Clara,  as  I approached. 

I presented  it  at  once,  when  she  gayly  and  coquettishly  held 
out  her  hand  for  me  to  kiss.  This  I did,  my  blood  rushing  to 
my  face  and  temples  the  while,  and  almost  depriving  me  of  con- 
sciousness. 

“Well,  Clara,  I am  surprised  at  you,”  said  Mortimer.  “How 
can  you  treat  the  poor  boy  so  ? ” 

I grew  deadly  pale  at  these  words,  and  turning  round,  looked 
at  the  speaker  full  in  the  face.  “ Poor  fellow,”  thought  I,  “ he 
is  jealous,  and  I am  really  grieved  for  him ; ” and  turned  again 
to  Clara. 

“Here  it  is — oh!  how  handsome,  papa,”  said  one  of  the 
younger  children,  running  eagerly  to  the  window,  as  a very  pretty 
open  carriage  with  four  horses  drew  up  before  the  house. 

“ The  bishop  has  taste,”  I murmured  to  myself,  scarcely  deign- 
ing to  give  a second  look  at  the  equipage. 

Clara  now  left  the  room,  but  speedily  returned — her  dress 
changed,  and  shawled  as  if  for  a walk.  What  could  all  this 
mean  ? — and  the  whispering,  too,  what  is  all  that  ? — and  why  are 
they  all  so  sad  ? — Clara  has  been  weeping. 

“ God  bless  you,  my  child — good-by,”  said  my  aunt,  as  she 
folded  her  in  her  arms  for  the  third  time. 

“ Good-by,  good-by,”  I heard  on  every  side.  At  length,  ap- 
proaching me,  Clara  took  my  hand  and  said, — 

“ My  poor  Harry,  so  we  are  going  to  part.  I am  going  to 
Italy.” 

“ To  Italy,  Clara  ? Oh,  no — say  no.  Italy!  I shall  never  see 
you  again.” 

“ Won’t  you  wear  this  ring  for  me,  Harry  ? It  is  an  old  favor- 
ite of  yours — and  when  we  meet  again ” 

“Oh!  dearest  Clara,”  I said,  “do  not  speak  thus.” 

“Good-by,  my  poor  boy,  good-by,”  said  Clara,  hurriedly; 
and  rushing  out  of  the  room,  she  was  lifted  by  Mortimer  into 


WISE  RESOLVES . 


3°9 


the  carriage,  who  immediately  jumped  in  after  her,  the  whip 
cracked,  the  horses  clattered,  and  all  was  out  of  sight  in  a sec- 
ond. 

“ Why  is  she  gone  with  him  ? ” said  I,  reproachfully,  turning 
towards  my  aunt. 

“ Why,  my  dear,  a very  sufficient  reason.  She  was  married 
this  morning.” 

This  was  my  first  love ! 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

WISE  RESOLVES. 

Musing  over  this  boyish  adventure,  I fell  into  a deep  slum- 
ber, and  on  awakening  it  took  me  some  minutes  before  I could 
recall  my  senses  sufficiently  to  know  where  I was.  The  whole 
face  of  things  in  my  room  was  completely  changed.  Flowers 
had  been  put  in  the  china  vases  upon  the  tables — two  handsome 
lamps,  shaded  with  gauzes,  stood  upon  the  consoles — illustrated 
books,  prints,  and  caricatures,  were  scattered  about.  A piano- 
forte had,  also,  by  some  witchcraft,  insinuated  itself  into  a re- 
cess near  the  sofa — a handsome  little  tea-service,  of  old  Dresden 
china,  graced  a small  marqueterie  table — and  a little  piquet  table 
stood  most  invitingly  beside  the  fire.  I had  scarcely  time  to 
turn  my  eyes  from  one  to  the  other  of  these  new  occupants  when 
I heard  the  handle  of  my  door  gently  turn,  as  if  by  some  cau- 
tious hand,  and  immediately  closed  my  eyes  and  feigned  sleep. 
Through  my  half-shut  lids  I perceived  the  door  opened.  After 
a pause  of  about  a second,  the  skirt  of  a white  muslin  dress  ap- 
peared— then  a pretty  foot  stole  a little  farther — and  at  last  the 
slight  and  graceful  figure  of  Emily  Bingham  advanced  noise- 
lessly into  the  room.  Fear  had  rendered  her  deadly  pale  ; but 
the  effect  of  her  rich  brown  hair,  braided  plainly  on  either  side 
of  her  cheek,  suited  so  well  the  character  of  her  features,  I 
thought  her  far  handsomer  than  ever.  She  came  forward  tow- 
ards the  table,  and  I now  could  perceive  that  she  had  some- 
thing  in  her  hand  resembling  a letter.  This  she  placed  near 
my  hand — so  near  as  almost  to  touch  it.  She  leaned  over  me 
— I 'felt  her  breath  upon  my  brow,  but  never  moved.  At  this 
instant,  a tress  of  her  hair,  becoming  unfastened,  fell  over  upon 
my  face.  She  started — the  motion  threw  me  off  my  guard, 
and  I looked  up.  She  gave  a faint,  scarcely  audible  shriek, 
and  shrank  into  the  chair  beside  me.  Recovering,  however, 


3io 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


upon  the  instant,  she  grasped  the  letter  she  had  just  laid  down, 
and  having  crushed  it  between  her  fingers,  threw  it  into  the 
fire.  This  done — as  if  the  effort  had  been  too  much  for  her 
strength — she  again  fell  back  upon  her  seat,  and  looked  so  pale 
I almost  thought  she  had  fainted. 

Before  I had  time  to  speak,  she  rose  once  more  ; and  now  her 
face  was  bathed  in  blushes,  her  eyes  swam  with  rising  tears,  and 
her  lips  trembled  with  emotion  as  she  spoke. 

“ Oh,  Mr.  Lorrequer,  what  will  you — what  can  you  think  of 

this  ? If  you  but  knew ;”  and  here  she  faltered  and  again 

grew  pale,  while  I,  with  difficulty  rising  from  the  sofa,  took  her 
hand,  and  led  her  to  the  chair  beside  it. 

“ And  may  I not  know  ? ” said  I ; “ may  I not  know,  my 
dear  ” — I am  not  sure  I did  not  say  dearest — “ Miss  Bingham, 
when,  perhaps,  the  knowledge  might  make  me  the  happiest  of 
mortals  ? ” 

This  was  a pretty  plunge  as  a sequel  to  my  late  resolutions. 
She  hid  her  face  between  her  hands,  and  sobbed  for  some  sec- 
onds. 

“ At  least,”  said  I,  “as  that  letter  was  destined  for  me  but  a 
few  moments  since,  I trust  that  you  will  let  me  hear  its  con- 
tents.” 

“ Oh,  no — not  now  ! ” said  she,  entreatingly  ; and,  rising  at 
the  same  time,  she  turned  to  leave  the  room.  I still  held  her 
hand,  and  pressed  it  within  mine.  I thought  she  returned  the 
pressure.  I leaned  forward  to  catch  her  eye,  when  the  door 
was  opened  hastily,  and  a most  extraordinary  figure  presented 
itself. 

It  was  a short,  fat  man,  with  a pair  of  enormous  mustachios, 
of  a fiery  red ; huge  bushy  whiskers  of  the  same  color ; a blue 
frock  covered  with  braiding,  and  decorated  with  several  crosses 
and  ribbons;  tight  pantaloons  and  Hessian  boots,  with  long 
brass  spurs.  He  held  a large  gold-headed  cane  in  his  hand, 
and  looked  about  with  an  expression  of  very  equivocal  drollery, 
mingled  with  fear. 

“ May  I ask,  sir,”  said  I,  as  this  individual  closed  the  door 
behind  him,  “ may  I ask  the  reason  for  this  intrusion  ? ” 

“ Oh,  upon  my  conscience,  I’ll  do — I’m  sure  to  pass  muster, 
now,”  said  the  well-known  voice  of  Mr.  O’Leary,  whose  pleasant 
features  began  to  dilate  amid  the  forest  of  red  hair  he  was  dis- 
guised in.  “ But  I see  you  are  engaged,”  said  he,  with  a sly 
look  at  Miss  Bingham,  whom  he  had  not  yet  recognized ; “ so  I 
must  contrive  to  hide  myself  elsewhere,  I suppose.” 

“ It  is  Miss  Bingham,”  said  I,  “ who  has  been  kind  enough  to 
come  here  with  her  maid,  to  bring  me  some  flowers.  Pray  pre- 


WISE  RE  SOL  VES. 


3i* 


sent  my  compliments  to  Mrs.  Bingham,  and  say  how  deeply  I 
feel  her  kind  attention.” 

Emily  rose  at  the  instant,  and  recovering  her  self-possession 
at  once,  said, — 

“ You  forget,  Mr.  Lorrequer,  it  is  a secret  from  whom  the 
flowers  came  ; at  least  mamma  hoped  to  place  them  in  your 
vases  without  your  knowing.  So  pray  don’t  speak  of  it — and 
I’m  sure  Mr.  O’Leary  will  not  tell.” 

If  Mr.  O’Leary  heard  one  word  of  this  artful  speech  I know 
not,  but  he  certainly  paid  no  attention  to  it,  nor  the  speaker, 
who  left  the  room  without  his  appearing  aware  of  it. 

“ Now  that  she  is  gone — for  which  Heaven  be  praised,”  said 
I to  myself, — “ let  me  see  what  this  fellow  can  mean.” 

As  I turned  from  the  door,  I could  scarcely  avoid  laughing 
aloud  at  the  figure  before  me.  He  stood  opposite  a large  mir- 
ror, his  hat  on  one  side  of  his  head,  one  arm  in  his  breast,  and 
the  other  extended,  leaning  upon  his  stick ; a look  of  as  much 
ferocity  as  such  features  could  accomplish  had  been  assumed, 
and  his  whole  attitude  was  a kind  of  caricature  of  a melo- 
dramatic hero  in  a German  drama. 

“ Why,  O’Leary,  what  is  all  this  ? ” 

“ Hush,  hush,”  said  he,  in  a terrified  whisper — “ never  men 
tion  that  name  again,  till  we  are  over  the  frontier.” 

“ But,  man,  explain — what  do  you  mean  ? ” 

“ Can’t  you  guess  ? ” said  lie,  dryly. 

“ Impossible  ; unless  the  affair  at  the  salon  has  induced  you 
to  take  this  disguise,  I cannot  conceive  the  reason.” 

“ Nothing  further  from  it,  my  dear  friend;  much  worse  than 
that.” 

“ Out  with  it,  then,  at  once.” 

“ She’s  come — she’s  here — in  this  very  house — No.  29,  above 
the  entresol  /” 

“ Who  is  here,  in  No.  29,  above  the  entresol?  ” 

“ Who,  but  Mrs.  O’Leary  herself.  I was  near  saying,  ‘ Bad 
luck  to  her.’  ” 

“ And  does  she  know  you  are  here  ? ” 

“That  is  what  I can’t  exactly  say,”  said  he,  “but  she  has  had 
the  Livre  des  Voyageurs  brought  up  to  her  room,  and  has  been 
making  rather  unpleasant  inquiries  for  the  proprietor  of  certain 
hieroglyphics  beginning  with  O,  which  have  given  me  great 
alarm — the  more,  as  all  the  waiters  have  been  sent  for  in  turn, 
and  subjected  to  long  examination  by  her.  So  I have  lost  no 
time  but,  under  the  auspices  of  your  friend  Trevanion,  have 
become  the  fascinating  figure  you  find  me,  and  am  now  Count 
O’Linski,  a Pole  of  noble  family,  banished  by  the  Russian  gov 


312 


HARRY  LORRE QUER . 


ernment,  with  a father  in  Siberia,  and  all  that ; and  I hope,  by 
the  end  of  the  week,  to  be  able  to  cheat  at  e'carte,  and  deceive 
the  very  police  itself.” 

The  idea  of  O’Leary’s  assuming  such  a metamorphosis  was 
too  absurd  not  to  throw  me  into  a hearty  fit  of  laughing,  in 
which  the  worthy  emigre  indulged  also. 

“ But  why  not  leave  this  at  once,”  said  I,  “ if  you  are  so 
much  in  dread  of  recognition  ? ” 

“ You  forget  the  trial,”  added  O’Leary.  “ I must  be  here  on 
the  18th,  or  all  my  bail  is  forfeited.” 

“True — I had  forgotten  that.  Well,  now,  your  plans.” 

“ Simply  to  keep  very  quiet  here  till  the  affair  of  the  tribunal 
is  over,  and  then  quit  France  at  once.  Meanwhile,  Trevanion 
thinks  that  we  may,  by  a bold  stratagem,  send  Mrs.  O’Leary 
off  on  a wrong  scent,  and  has  requested  Mrs.  Bingham  to  con- 
trive to  make  her  acquaintance,  and  ask  her  to  tea  in  her  room, 
when  she  will  see  me,  en  Polonais , at  a distance,  you  know — 
hear  something  of  my  melancholy  destiny  from  Trevanion — and 
leave  the  hotel  quite  sure  she  has  no  claim  on  me.  Meanwhile, 
some  others  of  the  party  are  to  mention  incidentally  having  met 
Mr.  O’Leary  somewhere,  or  heard  of  his  decease,  or  any  pleas- 
ant little  incident  that  may  occur  to  them.” 

“ The  plan  is  excellent,”  said  I,  “ for  in  all  probability  she 
may  never  come  in  your  way  again,  if  sent  off  on  a good 
errand  this  time.” 

“That’s  what  I’m  thinking,”  said  O’Leary;  “and  I am 
greatly  disposed  to  let  her  hear  that  I’m  with  Belzoni  in  Egypt, 
with  an  engagement  to  spend  the  Christmas  with  the  Dey  of 
Algiers.  That  would  give  her  a very  pretty  tour  for  the  re- 
mainder of  the  year,  and  show  her  the  Pyramids.  But,  tell  me 
fairly,  am  I a good  Pole  ? ” 

“ Rather  short,”  said  I,  “ and  a little  too  fat,  perhaps.” 

“That  comes  from  the  dash  of  the  Tartar  blood,  nothing 
more  ; and  my  mother  was  a Fin,”  said  he,  “ she’ll  never  ask 
whether  from  the  Blackwater  or  the  Baltic.  How  I revel  in  the 
thought,  that  I may  smoke  in  company  without  a breach  of  the 
unities.  But  I must  go  : there  is  a gentleman  with  a quinsy  in 
No.  8,  that  gives  me  a lesson  in  Polish  this  morning.  So  good- 
by,  and  don’t  forget  to  be  well  enough  to-night,  for  you  must 
be  present  at  my  debut” 

O’Leary  had  scarcely  gone,  when  my  thoughts  reverted  to 
Emily  Bingham.  I was  not  such  a coxcomb  as  to  fancy  her  in 
love  with  me  ; yet  certainly  there  was  something  in  the  affair 
which  looked  not  unlike  it ; and  though,  by  such  a circumstance, 
every  embarrassment  which  presse  ^pon  me  had  become  in- 


WISE  RESOLVES. 


3*3 


finitely  greater,  I could  not  dissemble  from  myself  a sense  of 
pleasure  at  the  thought.  She  was  really  a very  pretty  girl,  and 
improved  vastly  upon  acquaintance.  Les  absents  ont  toujours 
tort  is  the  truest  proverb  in  any  language,  and  I felt  it,  in  its 
fullest  force,  when  Trevanion  entered  my  room. 

“ Well,  Lorrequer,”  said  he,  “your  time  in  not  likely  to  hang 
heavily  on  your  hands  in  Paris,  if  occupation  will  prevent  it,  for 
I find  you  are  just  now  booked  for  a new  scrape.” 

“ What  can  you  mean  ? ” said  I,  starting  up. 

“ Why,  O’Leary,  who  has  been,  since  your  illness,  the  con- 
stant visitor  at  the  Binghams — dining  there  every  day,  and  spend- 
ing his  evenings — has  just  told  me  that  the  mamma  is  only 
waiting  for  the  arrival  of  Sir  Guy  Lorrequer  in  Paris  to  open  the 
trenches  in  all  form  ; and  from  what  she  has  heard  of  Sir  Guy, 
she  deems  it  most  likely  he  will  give  her  every  aid  and  support 
to  making  you  the  husband  of  the  fair  Emily.” 

“ And  with  good  reason,  too,”  said  I ; “ for  if  my  uncle  were 
only  given  to  understand  that  I had  once  gone  far  in  my  atten- 
tions, nothing  would  induce  him  to  break  off  the  match.  He 
was  crossed  in  love  himself  when  young,  and  has  made  a score 
of  people  miserable  since,  in  the  benevolent  idea  of  marrying 
them  against  every  obstacle.” 

“ How  very  smart  you  have  become,”  said  Trevanion,  taking 
a look  round  my  room,  and  surveying  in  turn  each  of  the  new 
occupants  ; “ you  must  certainly  reckon  upon  seeing  your  fair 
friend  here,  or  all  this  elegance  is  sadly  wasted.” 

This  was  the  time  to  explain  all  about  Miss  Bingham’s  visit ; 
and  I did  so,  of  course  omitting  any  details  which  might  seem 
to  me  needless,  or  involving  myself  in  inconsistency. 

Trevanion  listened  patiently  to  the  end — was  silent  for  some 
moments — then  added  : 

“ And  you  never  saw  the  letter  ? ” 

“ Of  course  not.  It  was  burned  before  my  eyes.” 

“ I think  the  affair  looks  very  serious,  Lorrequer.  You  may 
have  won  this  girl’s  affections.  It  matters  little  whether  the 
mamma  be  a hackneyed  match-maker,  or  the  cousin  a bullying 
duellist.  If  the  girl  have  a heart,  and  that  you  have  gained 
it ” 

“ Then  I must  marry,  you  would  say.” 

“ Exactly  so — without  the  prompting  of  your  worthy  uncle  ; 
I see  no  other  course  open  to  you  without  dishonor.  My  ad- 
vice, therefore,  is,  ascertain — and  that  speedily — how  far  your 
attentions  have  been  attended  with  the  success  you  dread — and 
then  decide  at  once.  Are  you  able  to  get  as  far  as  Mrs.  Bing- 
ham’s room  this  morning?  If  so,  come  along.  I shall  take  all 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


3T4 

the  frais  of  la  chere  mamma  off  your  hands,  while  you  talk  to 
the  daughter ; and  half  an  hour’s  courage  and  resolution  will 
do  it  all.” 

Having  made  the  most  effective  toilet  my  means  would  per- 
mit, my  right  arm  in  a sling,  and  my  step  trembling  from  weak- 
ness, I sallied  forth  with  Trevanion  to  make  love  with  as  many 
fears  for  the  result  as  the  most  bashful  admirer  ever  experi- 
enced, when  pressing  his  suit  upon  some  haughty  belle — but 
for  a far  different  reason. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

THE  PROPOSAL. 

On  reaching  Mrs.  Bingham’s  apartment,  we  found  that  she 
had  just  left  home  to  wait  upon  Mrs.  O’Leary,  and  consequently, 
that  Miss  Bingham  was  alone.  Trevanion,  therefore,  having 
wished  me  a safe  deliverance  through  my  trying  mission,  shook 
my  hand  warmly,  and  departed. 

I stood  for  some  minutes  irresolutely,  with  my  hand  upon  the 
lock  of  the  door.  To  think  that  the  next  few  moments  may  de- 
cide the  fortune  of  one’s  after-life  is  a sufficiently  anxious  thought ; 
but  that  your  fate  may  be  so  decided,  by  compelling  you  to 
finish  in  sorrow  what  you  have  begun  in  folly,  is  still  more  in- 
supportable. Such,  then,  was  my  condition.  I had  resolved 
within  myself,  if  the  result  of  this  meeting  should  prove  that  I 
had  won  Miss  Bingham’s  affections,  to  propose  for  her  at  once 
in  all  form,  and  make  her  my  wife.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  I 
only  found  that  she  too  had  amused  herself  with  a little  passing 
flirtation,  why  then,  I was  a free  man  once  more  : but,  on  cate- 
chizing myself  a little  closer,  I discovered  that  I was  not  indis- 
posed to  make  love  de  novo. 

With  the  speed  of  lightning,  my  mind  ran  over  every  passage 
of  our  acquaintance — our  first  meeting — our  solitary  walks — our 
daily,  hourly  associations — our  travelling  intimacy — the  advent- 
ure at  Chantraine  ; there  was,  it  is  true,  nothing  in  all  this  which 
could  establish  the  fact  of  wooing,  but  everything  which  should 
convince  an  old  offender  like  myself  that  the  young  lady  was 
en  prise , and  that  I myself— despite  my  really  strong  attachment 
elsewhere — was  not  entirely  scathless. 

“ Yes,”  said  I,  half  aloud,  as  I once  more  reviewed  the  past, 
“it  is  but  another  chapter  in  my  history  in  keeping  with  all  the 
'*est — one  step  has  ever  led  me  to  a second,  and  so  on  to  a third  ; 


/ 


THE  PROPOSAL . 315 

what  with  other  men  have  passed  for  mere  trifles,  have  ever  with 
me  become  serious  difficulties,  and  the  false  enthusiasm  with 
which  I ever  follow  any  object  in  life,  blinds  me  for  the  time,  and 
mistaking  zeal  for  inclination,  I never  feel  how  little  my  heart 
is  interested  in  success,  till  the  fever  of  pursuit  is  over.” 

These  were  pleasant  thoughts  for  one  about  to  throw  him- 
self at  a pretty  girl’s  feet,  and  pour  out  his  “ soul  of  love  before 
her ; ” but  that  with  me  was  the  least  part  of  it.  Curran,  they 
say,  usually  picked  up  his  facts  in  a case  from  the  opposite 
counsel’s  statements.  I always  relied  for  my  conduct  in  carry- 
ing on  anything  to  the  chance  circumstances  of  the  moment,  and 
trusted  to  my  animal  spirits  to  give  me  an  interest  in  whatever, 
for  the  time  being,  engaged  me. 

I opened  the  door.  Miss  Bingham  was  sitting  at  a table,  her 
head  leaning  upon  her  hands — some  open  letters  which  lay  be- 
fore her  evidently  so  occupying  her  attention  that  my  approach 
was  unheard.  On  my  addressing  her,  she  turned  round  sud- 
denly, and  became  at  first  deep  scarlet,  then  pale  as  death  ; 
while,  turning  to  the  table,  she  hurriedly  threw  her  letters  into  a 
drawer,  and  motioned  me  to  a place  beside  her. 

After  the  first  brief  and  commonplace  inquiry  for  my  health 
and  hopes  for  my  speedy  recovery,  she  became  silent ; and  I too, 
primed  with  topics  innumerable  to  discuss — knowing  how  short 
my  time  might  prove  before  Mrs.  Bingham’s  return — could  not 
say  a word. 

“ I hope,  Mr.  Lorrequer,”  said  she,  at  length,  “ that  you  have 
incurred  no  risk  by  leaving  your  room  so  early.” 

“ I have  not,”  I replied  ; “but  even  were  there  a certainty  of 
it,  the  anxiety  I labored  under  to  see  and  speak  with  you  alone, 
would  have  overcome  all  fears  on  that  account.  Since  this  un- 
fortunate business  has  confined  me  to  my  chamber,  I have  done 
nothing  but  think  over  circumstances  which  have  at  length  so 
entirely  taken  possession  of  me,  that  I must,  at  any  sacrifice, 
have  sought  an  opportunity  to  explain  to  you  ” — here  Emily 
looked  down,  and  I continued — “ I need  scarcely  say  what  my 
feelings  must  long  since  have  betrayed,  that  to  have  enjoyed 
the  daily  happiness  of  living  in  your  society,  of  estimating  your 
worth,  of  feeling  your  fascinations,  were  not  the  means  most  in 
request  for  him,  who  knew,  too  well,  how  little  he  deserved, 
either  by  fortune  or  desert,  to  hope  to  make  you  his  : and  yet, 
how  little  has  prudence  or  caution  to  do  with  situations  like  this.” 
She  did  not  guess  the  animus  of  this  speech.  “ I felt  all  I have 
described  ; and  yet,  and  yet,  I lingered  on,  prizing  too  dearly 
the  happiness  of  the  present  hour,  to  risk  it  by  any  avowal  of 
sentiments,  which  might  have  banished  me  from  your  presence 


316 


HARR  Y L ORREQURR. 


forever.  If  the  alternation  of  these  hopes  and  fears  has  proved 
too  strong  for  my  reason  at  last,  I cannot  help  it ; and  this  it  is 
which  now  leads  me  to  make  this  avowal  to  you.”  Emily  turned 
her  head  away  from  me  ; but  her  agitated  manner  showed  how 
deeply  my  words  had  affected  her;  and  I too,  now  that  I had 
finished,  felt  that  I had  been  “ coming  it  rather  strong  ” — though 
perhaps  not  very  intelligibly. 

“I  had  hoped,  Mr.  Lorrequer,”  said  she,  at  length — “I  had 
hoped,  I confess,  to  have  had  an  opportunity  of  speaking  with 
you.” — Then,  thought  I,  the  game  is  over,  and  Bishop  Luscombe 
is  richer  by  ten  pounds  than  I wish  him. — “ Something,  I know 
not  what,  in  your  manner,  led  me  to  suspect  that  your  affections 
might  lean  towards  me : hints  you  have  dropped,  and,  now  and 
then,  your  chance  allusions  strengthened  the  belief,  and  I de- 
termined, at  length,  that  no  feeling  of  maidenly  shame  on  my 
part  should  endanger  the  happiness  of  either  of  us,  and  I resolved 
to  see  you  : this  was  so  difficult,  that  I wrote  a letter,  and  that 
letter,  which  might  have  saved  me  all  distressing  explanation,  I 
burned  before  you  this  morning.” 

“But,  why,  dearest  girl,” — here  was  a plunge — “why,  if  the 
letter  could  remove  any  misconstruction,  or  could  be  the  means 
of  dispelling  any  doubt — why  not  have  let  me  see  it  ? ” 

“ Hear  me  out,”  cried  she,  eagerly,  and  evidently  not  heed- 
ing my  interruption  ; “ I determined,  if  your  affections  were  in- 
deed  ” A flood  of  tears  here  broke  forth,  and  drowned 

her  words  ; her  head  sank  between  her  hands,  and  she  sobbed 
bitterly. 

“ Corpo  di  Baccho  ! ” said  I to  myself,  “ it  is  all  over  with 
me  ; the  poor  girl  is  evidently  jealous,  and  her  heart  will  break.” 

“ Dearest,  dearest  Emily,”  said  I,  passing  my  arm  round  her, 
and  approaching  my  head  close  to  hers,  “ if  you  think  that  any 
other  love  than  yours  could  ever  beat  within  this  heart — that  I 
could  see  you  hourly  before  me — live  beneath  your  smile,  and 
gaze  upon  your  beauty — and,  still  more  than  all — pardon  the 
boldness  of  the  thought — feel  that  I was  not  indifferent  to 


“Oh!  spare  me  this  at  least,”  said  she,  turning  round  her 
tearful  eyes  upon  me,  and  looking  most  bewitchingly  beautiful. 
“ Have  I then  shown  you  this  plainly  ? ” 

“ Yes,  dearest  girl ! That  instinct  which  tells  us  we  are  loved 

has  spoken  within  me.  And  here  in  this  beating  heart ” 

“ Oh  ! say  no  more,”  said  she ; “ if  I have  indeed  gained  your 
affections ’ 

“ If— if  you  have,”  said  I,  clasping  her  to  my  heart,  while  she 
continued  to  sob  still  violently,  and  I felt  half  disposed  to  blow 


THOUGHTS  UPON  MA  TRIMONY. 


3i7 


my  brains  out  for  my  success.  However,  there  is  something  in 
love-making,  as  in  fox-hunting,  which  carries  you  along  in  spite 
of  yourself ; and  I continued  to  pour  forth  whole  rhapsodies  of 
love  that  the  Pastor  Fido  could  not  equal. 

“ Enough/’  said  she — “ it  is  enough  that  you  love  me  and  that 
I have  encouraged  your  so  doing.  But,  oh  ! tell  me  once  more, 
and  think  how  much  of  future  happiness  may  rest  upon  your 
answer — tell  me,  may  not  this  be  some  passing  attachment, 
which  circumstances  have  created,  and  others  may  dispel  ? Say, 
might  not  absence,  time,  or  another  more  worthy ” 

This  was  certainly  a very  rigid  cross-examination  when  I 
thought  the  trial  was  over  ! and,  not  being  exactly  prepared  foi 
it,  I felt  no  other  mode  of  reply  than  pressing  her  taper  fingers 
alternately  to  my  lips,  and  muttering  something  that  might  pass 
for  a declaration  of  love  unalterable,  but,  to  my  own  ears,  re- 
sembled a lament  on  my  folly. 

“ She  is  mine  now,”  thought  I,  “ so  we  must  e’en  make  the 
best  of  it ; and  truly  she  is  a very  handsome  girl,  though  not  a 
Lady  Jane  Callonby.  The  next  step  is  the  mamma;  but  I do 
not  anticipate  much  difficulty  in  that  quarter.” 

“ Leave  me  now,”  said  she,  in  a low  and  broken  voice ; “ but 
promise  not  to  speak  of  this  meeting  to  any  one  before  we  meet 
again.  I have  my  reasons  ; believe  me  they  are  sufficient  ones, 
so  promise  me  this  before  we  part.” 

Having  readily  given  the  pledge  required,  I again  kissed  her 
hand  and  bade  farewell,  not  a little  puzzled  the  whole  time  at 
perceiving  that  ever  since  my  declaration  and  acceptance  Emily 
seemed  anything  but  happy,  and  evidently  struggling  against 
some  secret  feeling  of  which  I knew  nothing.  “ Yes,”  thought 
I,  as  I wended  my  way  along  the  corridor,  “ the  poor  little  girl 
is  tremendously  jealous,  and  I must  have  said  many  a thing  dur- 
ing our  intimacy  to  hurt  her.  However,  that  is  all  past  and 
gone  ; and  now  comes  a new  character  for  me  : my  next  ap- 
pearance will  be  in  the  part  of  the  ‘happy  husband/  ” 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

THOUGHTS  UPON  MATRIMONY  IN  GENERAL,  AND  IN  THE  ARMY 
IN  PARTICULAR THE  KNIGHT  OF  KERRY  AND  BILLY  M‘CABE. 

“ So,”  thought  I,  as  I closed  the  door  of  my  room  behind  me, 
“ I am  accepted — the  die  is  cast  which  makes  me  a Benedict : 
yet  Heaven  knows  that  never  was  a man  less  disposed  to  be 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


3iS 

over  joyous  at  his  good  fortune  ! ” What  a happy  invention  it 
were,  if  when  adopting  any  road  in  life,  we  could  only  manage 
to  forget  that  we  had  ever  contemplated  any  other  ! It  is  the 
eternal  looking  back  in  this  world  that  forms  the  staple  of  all 
our  misery  ; and  we  are  but  ill-requited  for  such  unhappiness 
by  the  brightest  anticipations  we  can  conjure  up  for  the  future. 
How  much  of  all  that  “ past  ” was  now  to  become  a source 
of  painful  recollection,  and  to  how  little  of  the  future  could  I 
look  forward  with  even  hope  ! 

Our  weaknesses  are  much  more  constantly  the  spring  of  all 
our  annoyances  and  troubles  than  even  our  vices.  The  one  we 
hold  in  some  sort  of  subjection  : we  are  perfectly  slaves  to  the 
others.  This  thought  came  home  most  forcibly  to  my  bosom, 
as  I reflected  upon  the  step  which  led  me  on  imperceptibly  to 
my  present  embarrassment.  “ Well,  Rest  fini,  now,”  said  I, 
drawing  upon  that  bountiful  source  of  consolation  ever  open  to 
the  man  who  mars  his  fortune: — that  “ what  is  past  can’t  be 
amended ; ” which  piece  of  philosophy,  as  well  as  its  twin 
brother,  that  “ all  will  be  the  same  a hundred  years  hence,” 
have  been  golden  rules  to  me  from  my  childhood. 

The  transition  from  one  mode  of  life  to  another  perfectly  dif- 
ferent has  ever  seemed  to  me  a great  trial  of  a man’s  moral 
courage ; besides  that  the  fact  of  quitting  forever  anything, 
no  matter  how  insignificant  or  valueless,  is  always  attended 
with  painful  misgivings.  My  bachelor  life  had  its  share  of  an- 
noyances and  disappointments,  it  is  true  ; but  upon  the  whole, 
it  was  a most  happy  one — and  now  I was  about  to  surrender  it 
forever,  not  yielding  to  the  impulse  of  affection  and  love  for 
one  without  whom  life  were  valueless  to  me,  but  merely  a rec- 
ompense for  the  indulgence  of  that  fatal  habit  I had  contracted 
of  pursuing  with  eagerness  every  shadow  that  crossed  my  path. 
All  my  early  friends — all  my  vagrant  fancies — all  my  day-dreams 
of  the  future  I was  now  to  surrender — for,  what  becomes  of  any 
man’s  bachelor  friends  when  he  is  once  married?  Where  are 
his  rambles  in  high  and  by-ways  when  he  has  a wife  ? and 
what  is  left  for  anticipation  after  his  wedding,  except,  perhaps, 
\o  speculate  upon  the  arrangement  of  his  funeral?  To  a mili- 
tary man  more  than  to  any  other  these  are  serious  thoughts. 
All  the  fascinations  of  an  army  life,  in  war,  or  peace,  lie  in  the 
daily,  hourly  associations  with  your  brother  officers — the  morn- 
ing cigar,  the  barrack-square  lounge — the  afternoon  ride — the 
game  of  billiards  before  dinner — the  mess  (that  perfection  of 
dinner  society) — the  plans  for  the  evening — the  devilled  kidney 
at  twelve — forming  so  many  points  ol  departure  whence  you 
sail  out  upon  your  daily  voyage  through  life.  Versus  these,  you 


THOUGHTS  UPON  MATRIMONY . 


319 


have  that  awful  perversion  of  all  that  is  natural — an  officer’s 
wife.  She  had  been  a beauty  when  young,  had  black  eyes  and 
high  complexion,  a good  figure,  rather  inclined  to  embonpoint , 
and  a certain  springiness  in  her  walk,  and  a jauntiness  in  her 
air,  that  are  ever  sure  attractions  to  a sub.  in  a marching  regi- 
ment. She  can  play  backgammon,  and  sing  “ Di  tanti  palpiti,” 
and,  if  an  Irishwoman,  is  certain  to  be  able  to  ride  a steeple- 
chase, and  has  an  uncle  a lord,  who  (en  parenthese)  always  turns 
out  to  be  a creation  made  by  King  James  after  his  abdication. 
In  conclusion,  she  breakfasts  en  papillotes — wears  her  shoes 
down  at  heel — calls  every  officer  of  the  regiment  by  his  name — 
has  a great  taste  for  increasing  his  majesty’s  lieges,  and  delights 
in  London  porter.  To  this  genus  of  Vrow  I have  never  ceased 
to  entertain  the  most  thrilling  abhorrence  ; and  yet  how  often 
have  I seen  what  appeared  to  be  pretty  and  interesting  girls  fall 
into  something  of  this  sort ! and  how  often  have  I vowed  any 
fate  to  myself  rather  than  become  the  husband  of  a baggage- 
wagon  wife  ! 

Had  all  my  most  sanguine  hopes  promised  realizing — had  my 
suit  with  Lady  Jane  been  favorable,  I could  scarcely  have  bade 
adieu  to  my  bachelor  life  without  a sigh.  No  prospect  of  fu- 
ture happiness  can  ever  perfectly  exclude  all  regret  at  quitting 
our  present  state  forever.  I am  sure  if  I had  been  a cater- 
pillar, it  would  have  been  with  a heavy  heart  that  I would  have 
donned  my  wings  as  a butterfly.  Now  the  metamorphosis  was 
reversed  : need  it  be  wondered  if  I were  sad  ? 

So  completely  was  I absorbed  in  my  thoughts  upon  this  mat- 
ter, that  I had  not  perceived  the  entrance  of  O’Leary  and  Tre- 
vanion,  who,  unaware  of  my  being  in  the  apartment,  as  I was 
stretched  upon  a sofa  in  a dark  corner,  drew  their  chairs  tow- 
ards the  fire  and  began  chatting. 

“ Do  you  know,  Mr.  Trevanion,”  said  O’Leary,  “ I am  half 
afraid  of  this  disguise  of  mine.  I sometimes  think  I am  not 

like  a Pole  ; and  if  she  should  discover  me ” 

“ No  fear  of  that  in  the  world  ; your  costume  is  perfect,  your 
beard  unexceptionable.  I could,  perhaps,  have  desired  a little 
less  paunch  ; but  then ” 

“ That  comes  of  fretting,  as  Falstaff  says  ; and  you  must  not 
forget  that  I am  banished  from  my  country.” 

“’Now,  as  to  your  conversation,  I should  advise  you  saying 
very  little — not  one  word  of  English.  You  may,  if  you  like,  call 
in  the  assistance  of  Irish  when  hard  pressed.” 

“ I have  my  fears  on  that  score.  There  is  no  knowing  where 
that  might  lead  to  discovery.  You  know  the  story  of  the  Knight 
of  Kerry  and  Billy  M‘Cabe  ? ” 


320 


HARRY  LORRE  QUER. 


“ I fear  I must  confess  my  ignorance — I have  never  heard  of 
it.” 

“ Then  maybe  you  never  knew  Giles  Dackson  ? ” 

“ I have  not  that  pleasure  either.” 

“ Lord  bless  me,  how  strange  that  is  ! I thought  he  was  bet- 
ter known  than  the  Duke  of  Wellington  or  the  travelling  piper. 
Well,  I must  tell  you  the  story,  for  it  has  a moral,  too — indeed, 
several  morals  ; but  you’ll  find  that  out  for  yourself.  Well,  it 
seems  that  one  day  the  Knight  of  Kerry  was  walking  along 
the  Strand  in  London,  killing  an  hour’s  time,  till  the  House  was 
done  prayers,  an  Hume  tired  of  hearing  himself  speaking ; his 
eye  was  caught  by  an  enormous  picture  displayed  upon  the  wall 
of  a house,  representing  a human  figure  covered  with  long  dark 
hair,  with  huge  nails  upon  his  hands,  and  a most  fearful  expres- 
sion of  face.  At  first  the  Knight  thought  it  was  Dr.  Bowring  ; 
but  on  coming  nearer  he  heard  a man  with  a scarlet  livery 
and  a cocked  hat  call  out,  4 Walk  in,  ladies  and  gentlemen — the 
most  vonderful  curiosity  ever  exhibited — only  one  shilling — the 
vild  man  from  Chippoowango,  in  Africay — eats  raw  wittles  with- 
out being  cooked,  and  many  other  surprising  and  pleasing  per- 
formances/ 

“ The  Knight  paid  his  money,  and  was  admitted.  At  first 
the  crowd  prevented  his  seeing  anything — for  the  place  was 
full  to  suffocation,  and  the  noise  awful — for,  besides  the  ex- 
clamations and  applause  of  the  audience,  there  were  three  bar- 
rel-organs, playing  4 Home,  sweet  Home  ! ’ and  4 Cherry  Ripe/ 
and  the  wild  man  himself  contributed  his  share  to  the  uproar. 
At  last,  the  Knight  obtained,  by  dint  of  squeezing  and  some 
pushing,  a place  in  the  front,  when,  to  his  very  great  horror, 
he  beheld  a figure  that  far  eclipsed  the  portrait  without  doors. 

44  It  was  a man  nearly  naked,  covered  with  long,  shaggy  hair, 
that  grew  even  over  his  nose  and  cheek  bones.  He  sprang 
about,  sometimes  on  his  feet,  sometimes  all-fours,  but  always 
uttering  the  most  fearful  yells,  and  glaring  upon  the  crowd  in 
a manner  that  was  really  dangerous.  The  Knight  did  not  feel 
exactly  happy  at  the  whole  proceeding,  and  began  heartily  to 
wish  himself  back  in  the  4 House,’  even  upon  a committee  of 
privileges,  when,  suddenly,  the  savage  gave  a more  frantic 
scream  than  before,  and  seized  upon  a morsel  of  raw  beef,  which 
a keeper  extended  to  him  upon  a long  fork,  like  a tandem  whip 
— he  was  not  safe,  it  appears,  at  close  quarters; — this  he  tore 
to  pieces  eagerly,  and  devoured  in  the  most  voracious  manner, 
amid  great  clapping  of  hands,  and  other  evidences  of  satisfac- 
tion from  the  audience.  4 Til  go,  now,’  thought  the  Knight, 4 for 
God  knows  whether,  in  his  hungry  moods,  he  might  not  fancy 


A REMINISCENCE. 


321 


to  conclude  his  dinner  by  a member  of  Parliament.’  Just  at 
this  instant,  some  sounds  struck  upon  his  ear  that  surprised 
him  not  a little.  He  listened  more  attentively,  and  conceive, 
if  you  can,  his  amazement  to  find  that,  amid  his  most  fearful 
cries  and  wild  yells,  the  savage  was  talking  Irish.  Laugh  if 
you  like,  but  it’s  the  truth  I am  telling  you — nothing  less  than 
Irish.  There  he  was,  jumping  four  feet  high  in  the  air,  eating 
his  raw  meat,  pulling  out  his  hair  by  handfuls,  and,  amid  all 
this,  cursing  the  whole  company  to  his  heart’s  content,  in  as 
good  Irish  as  ever  was  heard  in  Tralee.  Now,  though  the 
Knight  had  heard  of  red  Jews  and  white  Negroes,  he  had  never 
happened  to  read  any  account  of  an  African  Irishman  ; so  he 
listened  very  closely,  and  by  degrees,  not  only  the  words  were 
known  to  him,  but  the  very  voice  was  familiar.  At  length, 
something  he  heard  left  no  further  doubt  upon  his  mind,  and, 
turning  to  the  savage,  he  addressed  him  in  Irish,  at  the  same 
time  fixing  a look  of  most  scrutinizing  import  upon  him. 

44  4 Who  are  you,  you  scoundrel  ? ’ said  the  Knight. 

44  4 Billy  M4Cabe,  your  honor.’ 

44  4 And  what  do  you  mean  by  playing  off  these  tricks  here,  in- 
stead of  earning  your  bread  like  an  honest  man  ? ’ 

44  4 Whisht ! ’ said  Billy,  4 and  keep  the  secret.  I’m  earning 
the  rent  for  your  honor.  One  must  do  many  a queer  thing  that 
pays  two  pound  ten  an  acre  for  bad  land.’ 

44  This  was  enough : the  Knight  wished  Billy  every  success, 
and  left  him  amid  the  vociferous  applause  of  a well-satisfied  au- 
dience. This  adventure,  it  seems,  has  made  the  worthy  Knight 
a great  friend  to  the  introduction  of  poor  laws ; for,  he  remarks 
very  truly,  4 more  of  Billy’s  countrymen  might  take  a fancy  to  a 
savage  life  if  the  secret  was  found  out.’  ” 

It  was  impossible  for  me  to  preserve  my  incognito  as  Mr. 
O’Leary  concluded  his  story,  and  I was  obliged  to  join  in  the 
mirth  of  Trevanion,  who  laughed  loud  and  long  as  he  finished  it. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

A REMINISCENCE, 

O’Leary  and  Trevanion  had  scarcely  left  the  room,  when  the 
waiter  entered  with  two  letters — the  one  bore  a German  post- 
mark, and  was  in  the  well-known  hand  of  Lady  Callonby  ; the 
other  in  a writing  with  which  I was  no  less  familiar — that  of 
Emily  Bingham. 

21 


322 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


Let  any  one  who  has  been  patient  enough  to  follow  me  through 
these  “ Confessions,’’  conceive  my  agitation  at  this  moment. 
There  lay  my  fate  before  me,  coupled,  in  all  likelihood,  with  a 
view  of  what  it  might  have  been  under  happier  auspices — at 
least  so  in  anticipation  did  I read  the  two  unopened  epistles. 
My  late  interview  with  Miss  Bingham  left  no  doubt  upon  my 
mind  that  I had  secured  her  affections  ; and  acting  in  accordance 
with  the  counsel  of  Trevanion,  no  less  than  my  own  sense  of 
right,  I resolved  upon  marrying  her,  with  what  prospect  of  hap- 
piness I dared  not  to  think  of ! 

Alas  ! and  alas  ! there  is  no  infatuation  like  the  taste  for  flir- 
tation— mere  empty,  valueless,  heartless  flirtation.  You  hide 
the  dice-box  and  the  billiard  queue , lest  your  son  become  a gam- 
bler— you  put  aside  the  Racing  Calendar,  lest  he  imbibe  a jockey 
predilection — but  you  never  tremble  at  his  fondness  for  white 
muslin  and  a satin  slipper,  far  more  dangerous  tastes  though 
they  be,  and  infinitely  more  perilous  to  a man’s  peace  and  pros- 
perity than  all  the  “ Queens  of  trumps  ” that  ever  figured,  whether 
on  pasteboad  or  the  Doncaster  ! “ Woman’s  my  wakeness,  yer 

honor,”  said  an  honest  Patlander,  on  being  charged  before  the 
lord  mayor  with  having  four  wives  living;  and  without  having 
any  such  “ Algerine  act  ” upon  my  conscience,  I must,  I fear, 
enter  a somewhat  similar  plea  for  my  downfallings,  and  avow  in 
humble  gratitude,  that  I have  scarcely  had  a misfortune  through 
life  unattributable  to  them  in  one  way  or  another.  And  this  I 
say  without  any  reference  to  country,  class,  or  complexion, 
“ black,  brown,  or  fair  ; ” from  my  first  step  forth  into  life,  a raw 
sub.  in  the  gallant  4 — th,  to  this  same  hour,  I have  no  other 
avowal,  no  other  confession  to  make.  “ Be  always  ready  with 
the  pistol,”  was  the  dying  advice  of  an  Irish  statesman  to  his 
sons  : mine,  in  a similar  circumstance,  would  rather  be  “ Gar- 
dez-vous  des  femmes ,”  and  more  especially  if  they  be  Irish. 

There  is  something  almost  treacherous  in  the  facility  with 
which  an  Irish  girl  receives  your  early  attentions  and  appears  to 
like  them,  that  invariably  turns  a young  fellow’s  head  very  long 
before  he  has  any  prospect  of  touching  her  heart.  She  thinks  it 
so  natural  to  be  made  love  to,  that  there  is  neither  any  affected 
coyness  nor  any  agitated  surprise.  She  listens  to  your  declara' 
tion  of  love  as  quietly  as  the  chief  justice  would  to  one  of  law, 
and  refers  the  decision  to  a packed  jury  of  her  relatives,  who 
rarely  recommend  you  to  mercy.  Love  and  fighting,  too,  are  so 
intimately  united  in  Ireland,  that  a courtship  rarely  progresses 
without  at  least  one  exchange  of  shots  between  some  of  the 
parties  concerned.  My  first  twenty-four  hours  in  Dublin  is 
so  pleasantly  characteristic  of  this  fhat  I may  as  well  relate  it 


A REMINISCENCE . 


323 


here,  while  the  subject  is  before  us  ; besides,  as  these  “ Confes- 
sions ” are  intended  as  warnings  and  guides  to  youth,  I may  con- 
vey a useful  lesson,  showing  why  a man  should  not  “ make  love 
in  the  dark.” 

It  was  upon  a raw,  cold,  drizzling  morning  in  February,  18 — , 
that  our  regiment  landed  on  the  North-wall  from  Liverpool, 
whence  we  had  been  hurriedly  ordered  to  repress  some  riots 
and  disturbances  then  agitating  Dublin. 

We  marched  to  the  Royal  Barracks,  our  band  playing  “ Pat- 
rick’s Day,”  to  the  very  considerable  admiration  of  as  naked  a 
population  as  ever  loved  music.  The  — th  Dragoons  were  at  the 
same  time  quartered  there — right  pleasant,  jovial  fellows,  who 
soon  gave  us  to  understand  that  the  troubles  were  over  before 
we  arrived,  and  that  the  great  city  authorities  were  now  return- 
ing thanks  for  their  preservation  from  fire  and  sword  by  a series 
of  entertainments  of  the  most  costly,  but  somewhat  incon- 
gruous, kind — the  company  being  scarcely  less  mixed  than  the 
dishes.  Peers  and  play-actors,  judges  and  jailers,  archbishops, 
tailors,  attorneys,  rope-makers  and  apothecaries,  all  uniting  in 
the  festive  delight  of  good  feeding,  and  drinking  the  “ glorious 
memory  ” — but  of  whom  half  the  company  knew  not,  only  sur- 
mising “it  was  something  agin  the  Papists.”  You  may  smile, 
but  these  were  pleasant  times,  and  I scarcely  care  to  go  back 
there  since  they  were  changed.  But  to  return.  The  — th  had 
just  received  an  invitation  to  a ball,  to  be  given  by  the  high  sher- 
iff, and  to  which  they  most  considerately  said  we  should  also  be 
invited.  This  negotiation  was  so  well  managed,  that  before 
noon  we  all  received  our  cards  from  a green-liveried  youth, 
mounted  upon  an  emaciated  pony — the  whole  turn-out  not  au- 
guring flatteringly  of  the  high  sheriff’s  taste  in  equipage. 

We  dined  with  the  — th,  and  as  customary  before  going  to  an 
evening  party,  took  the  “ other  bottle  ” of  claret  that  lies  beyond 
the  frontier  of  prudence.  In  fact,  from  the  lieutenant-colonel 
down  to  the  newly-joined  ensign,  there  was  not  a face  in  the  party 
that  did  not  betray  “ signs  of  the  times  ” that  promised  most  fa- 
vorably for  the  mirth  of  the  sheriff’s  ball.  We  were  so  perfectly 
up  to  the  mark,  that  our  major,  a Connemara  man,  said,  as 
we  left  the  mess-room,  “ a liqueur  glass  would  spoil  us.” 

In  this  acme  of  our  intellectual  wealth,  we  started  about  eleven 
o’clock  upon  every  species  of  conveyance  that  chance  could 
press  into  the  service.  Of  hackney-coaches  there  were  few,  but 
in  jingles,  noddies,  and  jaunting-cars,  with  three  on  a side  and 
“ one  in  the  well,”  we  mustered  strong.  Down  Barrack  Street 
we  galloped,  the  mob  cheering  us,  we  laughing,  and  I’m  afraid 
shouting  a little,  too — the  watchmen  springing  their  rattles,  as 


HARRY  LORREQUER . 


324 

if  instinctively  at  noise,  and  the  whole  population  up  and  awake, 
evidently  entertaining  a high  opinion  of  our  convivial  qualities. 
Our  voices  became  gradually  more  decorous,  however,  as  we  ap- 
proached the  more  civilized  quarter  of  the  town ; and  with  only 
the  slight  stoppage  of  the  procession  to  pick  up  an  occasional 
dropper-off,  as  he  lapsed  from  the  seat  of  a jaunting-car,  we  ar- 
rived at  length  at  our  host’s  residence,  somewhere  in  Sackville 
Street. 

Had  our  advent  conferred  the  order  of  knighthood  upon  our 
host,  he  could  not  have  received  us  with  more  delight.  He 
shook  us  all  in  turn  by  the  hand,  to  the  number  of  eight-and- 
thirty,  and  then  presented  us  seriatim  to  his  spouse,  a very  be- 
jewelled lady  of  some  forty  years — who,  what  between  bugles, 
feathers,  and  her  turban,  looked  excessively  like  a Chinese 
pagoda  upon  a saucer.  The  rooms  were  crowded  to  suffocation — 
the  noise  awful — and  the  company  crushing  and  elbowing  rather 
a little  more  than  you  expect  where  the  moiety  are  of  the  softer 
sex.  However,  we  all  so  perfectly  fell  in  with  the  habits  of 
the  place,  that  ere  half  an  hour,  we  squeezed,  ogled,  leered,  and 
drank  champagne  like  the  rest  of  the  corporation. 

“ Devilish  hot  work,  this,”  said  the  colonel,  as  he  passed  me 
with  two  rosy-cheeked,  smiling  ladies  on  either  arm  ; “ the  mayor 
— that  little  fellow  in  the  punch-colored  shorts — has  very  nearly 
put  me  hors  de  combat  with  strong  negus  ; take  care  of  him,  I 
advise  you.” 

Tipsy  as  I felt  myself,  I was  yet  sufficiently  clear  to  be  fully 
alive  to  the  drollery  of  the  scene  before  me.  Flirtations  that, 
under  other  circumstances,  would  demand  the  secrecy  and  soli- 
tude of  a country  green  lane,  or  some  garden  bower,  were  here 
conducted  in  all  the  open  effrontery  of  wax-lights  and  lustres ; 
looks  were  interchanged,  hands  were  squeezed,  and  soft  things 
whispered,  and  smiles  returned  ; till  the  intoxication  of  “ punch 
negus  ” and  spiced  port  gave  way  to  the  far  greater  one  of  bright 
looks  and  tender  glances.  Quadrilles  and  country  dances — 
waltzing  there  was  none  (perhaps  all  for  the  best) — whist,  back- 
gammon, loo — unlimited  for  uproar — sandwiches,  and  warm 
liquors,  employed  us  pretty  briskly  till  supper  was  announced, 
when  a grand  squeeze  took  place  on  the  stairs — the  population 
tending  thitherward  with  an  eagerness  that  a previous  starvation 
of  twenty-four  hours  could  alone  justify.  Among  this  dense 
mass  of  moving  muslin,  velvet  and  broadcloth,  I found  myself 
chaperoning  an  extremely  tempting  little  damsel,  with  a pair 
of  laughing  blue  eyes  and  dark  eyelashes,  who  had  been  com- 
mitted to  my  care  and  guidance  for  the  passage. 

“ Miss  Moriarty,  Mr.  Lorrequer,”  said  an  old  lady  in  green 


A REMINISCENCE. 


325 


and  spangles,  who  I afterwards  found  was  the  lady  mayor- 
ess. 

“ The  nicest  girl  in  the  room,”  said  a gentleman  with  a Tip- 
perary accent.  “ and  has  a mights  sweet  place  near  Ath- 
lone.” 

The  hint  was  not  lost  upon  me,  and  I speedily  began  to  “ make 
up”  to  my  charge  ; and  before  we  reached  the  supper-room, 
learned  certain  particulars  of  her  history,  which  I have  not  yet 
forgotten.  She  was,  it  seems,  sister  to  a lady  then  in  the  room, 
the  wife  of  an  attorney,  who  rejoiced  in  the  pleasing  and  classical 
appellation  of  Mr.  Mark  Anthony  Fitzpatrick ; the  aforesaid  Mark 
Anthony  being  a tall,  rawboned,  black-whiskered,  ill-looking  dog, 
that  from  time  to  time  contrived  to  throw  very  uncomfortable- 
looking glances  at  me  and  Mary  Anne,  for  she  was  so  named, 
the  whole  time  of  supper.  After  a few  minutes,  however,  1 
totally  forgot  him,  and  indeed  everything  else,  in  the  fascination 
of  my  fair  companion.  She  shared  her  chair  with  me,  upon 
which  I supported  her  by  my  arm  passed  round  the  back  ; we 
eat  our  pickled  salmon,  jelly,  blanc-mange,  cold  chicken,  ham, 
and  custard  off  the  same  plate,  with  an  occasional  squeeze  of 
the  finger,  as  om  hands  met — her  eyes  making  sad  havoc  with 
me  all  the  while,  as  I poured  my  tale  of  love — love,  lasting, 
burning  all-consuming — into  her  not  unwilling  ear, 

“ Ah  ! now,  ye’r  not  in  earnest  ? ” 

“ Yes,  Mary  Anne,  by  all  that’s ” 

“ Well,  there  now,  don’t  swear,  and  take  care — sure  Mark 
Anthony  is  looking.” 

“ Mark  Anthony  be ” 

“ Oh  ! how  passionate  you  are ; I’m  sure  I never  could  live 
easy  with  you.  There,  now,  give  me  some  sponge-cake,  and 
don’t  be  squeezing  me  or  they’ll  see  you.” 

“ Yes,  to  my  heart,  dearest  girl.” 

“ Och,  it’s  cheese  you’re  giving  me,”  said  she,  with  a grimace 
that  nearly  cured  my  passion. 

“ A cottage,  a hut,  with  you — with  you  /”  said  I,  in  a cadence 
that  I defy  Macready  to  rival.  “ What  is  worldly  splendor,  or 
the  empty  glitter  of  rank  ? ” 

I here  glanced  at  my  epaulets,  upon  which  I saw  her  eyes 
riveted. 

“ Isn’t  the  ginger-beer  beautiful ! ” said  she,  emptying*  a glass 
of  champagne. 

Still  I was  not  to  be  roused  from  my  trance,  and  continued 
my  courtship  as  warmly  as  ever. 

“ I suppose  you  will  come  home  now  ; ” said  a gruff  voice  be 
hind  Mary  Anne. 


320  HARRY  LORREQUER . 

1 turned  and  perceived  Mark  Anthony  with  a grim  look  of 
peculiar  import. 

“ Oh,  Mark,  dear,  I’m  engaged  to  dance  another  set  with  this 
gentleman.” 

“ Ye  are,  are  ye  ! ” replied  Mark,  eyeing  me  askance.  “ Troth 
and  I think  the  gentleman  would  be  better  if  he  went  off  to  his 
flea-bag  himself.” 

In  my  then  mystified  intellect  this  west-country  synonym  for 
a bed  a little  puzzled  me. 

“ Yes,  sir,  the  lady  is  engaged  to  me;  have  you  anything  to 
say  to  that  ? ” 

“ Nothing  at  present,  at  all,”  said  Mark,  almost  timidly. 

“Oh  dear,  oh  dear,”  sobbed  Mary  Anne  ; “they’re  going  to 
fight,  and  he’ll  be  killed — I know  he  will.” 

For  which  of  us  this  fate  was  destined,  I stopped  not  to  con- 
sider, but  taking  the  lady  under  my  arm,  elbowed  my  way  to  the 
drawing-room,  amid  a very  sufficient  patting  upon  the  back,  and 
thumping  between  the  shoulders,  bestowed  by  members  of  the 
company  who  approved  of  my  proceedings.  The  three  fiddles, 
the  flute,  and  bassoon,  that  formed  our  band,  being  by  this  time 
sufficiently  drunk,  played  after  a fashion  of  their  own,  which  by 
one  of  those  strange  sympathies  of  our  nature,  imparted  its  in- 
fluence to  our  legs,  and  a country  dance  was  performed  in  a 
style  of  free  and  easy  gesticulation  that  defies  description.  At 
the  end  of  eighteen  couple,  tired  of  my  exertions — and  they  were 
not  slight — I leaned  my  back  against  the  wall  of  the  room,  which 
I now,  for  the  first  time,  perceived  was  covered  with  a very  pecul- 
iar and  novel  species  of  hanging — no  less  than  a kind  of  rough, 
green  baize  cloth,  that  moved  and  floated  at  every  motion  of  the 
air.  I paid  little  attention  to  this,  till  suddenly  turning  my  head 
something  gave  way  behind  it.  I felt  myself  struck  upon  the 
back  of  the  neck,  and  fell  forward  into  the  room,  covered  by  a 
perfect  avalanche  of  fenders,  fire-irons,  frying-pans,  and  copper- 
kettles,  mingled  with  the  lesser  artillery  of  small  nails,  door-kevs 
and  hold-fasts.  There  I lay  amid  the  most  vociferous  mirth  I 
ever  listened  to,  under  the  confounded  torrent  of  ironmongery 
that  half  stunned  me.  The  laughter  over,  I was  assisted  to  rise, 
and  having  drunk  about  a pint  of  vinegar,  and  had  my  face  and 
temples  washed  in  strong  whiskey  punch — the  allocation  of  the 
fluids  being  mistaken — I learned  that  our  host,  the  high  sheriff, 
was  a celebrated  tin  and  iron  man,  and  that  his  ball-room  was 
no  other  than  his  magazine  of  metals,  and  that  to  conceal  the 
well-filled  shelves  from  the  gaze  of  his  aristocratic  guests,  they 
were  clothed  in  the  manner  related;  which  ijiy  unhappy  head, 
by  some  misfortune,  displaced;  and  thus  brought  on  a calamity 


A REMINISCENCE . 


327 


scarcely  less  afflicting  to  him  than  to  myself.  I should  scarcely 
have  stopped  to  mention  this  here,  were  it  not  that  Mary  Anne’s 
gentle  nursing  of  me  in  my  misery  went  far  to  complete  what 
her  fascination  had  begun  ; and  although  she  could  not  help 
laughing  at  the  occurrence,  I forgave  her  readily  for  her  kind- 
ness. 

“ Remember,”  said  I,  trying  to  ogle  through  a black  eye, 
painted  by  the  angle  of  a register  grate — “ remember,  Mary 
Anne,  I am  to  see  you  home.” 

“ Oh ! dear,  sir,  sure  I don’t  know  how  you  can  manage 
it ” 

Here  Mark  Anthony’s  entrance  cut  short  her  speech,  for  he 
came  to  declare  that  some  of  the  officers  had  taken  his  coach, 
and  was,  as  might  be  supposed,  in  a towering  passion. 

“ If,  sir,”  said  I,  with  an  air  of  the  most  balmy  courtesy — “ if 
I can  be  of  any  use  in  assisting  you  to  see  your  friends 
home ” 

“ Ah  ! then,  ye’r  a nice  looking  article  to  see  ladies  home.  I 
wish  you  seen  yourself  this  minute,”  said  he. 

As  I felt  it  would  be  no  breach  of  the  unities — time,  place, 
and  everything  considered — to  smash  his  skull,  I should  cer- 
tainly have  proceeded  to  do  so,  had  not  a look  of  the  most 
imploring  kind  from  Mary  Anne  restrained  me.  By  this  time, 
he  had  taken  her  under  the  arm,  and  was  leading  her  away.  I 
stood  irresolute,  till  a glance  from  my  charmer  caught  me ; 
when  I rallied  at  once,  and  followed  them  down  stairs.  Here 
the  scene  was  to  the  full  as  the  above ; the  cloaking,  shawling, 
shoeing,  etc.,  of  the  ladies  being  certainly  as  mirth-moving  a 
process  as  I should  wish  to  see.  Here  were  mothers  trying  to 
collect  their  daughters,  as  a hen  her  chickens,  and  as  in  that 
case,  the  pursuit  of  one  usually  lost  all  the  others  ; testy  papas 
swearing,  lovers  leering,  as  they  twisted  the  boas  round  the  fair 
throats  of  their  sweethearts ; vows  of  love,  mingling  with  lam- 
entations for  a lost  slipper  or  a stray  mantle.  Sometimes  the 
candles  were  extinguished,  and  the  melee  became  greater,  till 
the  order  and  light  were  restored  together.  Meanwhile,  each 
of  our  fellows  had  secured  his  fair  one,  save  myself,  and  I was 
exposed  to  no  small  ridicule  for  my  want  of  tact.  Nettled  by 
this,  I made  a plunge  to  the  corner  of  the  room,  where  Mary 
Anne  was  shawling;  I recognized  her  pink  sash,  threw  her 
cloak  over  her  shoulders,  and  at  the  very  moment  that  Mark 
Anthony  drew  his  wife’s  arm  within  his,  I performed  the  same 
by  my  friend,  and  followed  them  to  the  door.  Here  the  grim 
brother-in-law  turned  round  to  take  Mary  Anne’s  arm,  and  see-' 
ing  her  with  me,  mere?  ~ Hnd  of  hoarse  chuckle,  and 


HARRY  10RREQUER. 


muttered,  “Very  well,  sir  : upon  my  conscience,  you  will  have 
it,  I see.”  During  this  brief  interval,  so  occupied  was  I in 
watching  him,  that  I never  once  looked  in  my  fnend’s  face  ; but 
the  gentle  squeeze  of  her  arm,  as  she  leaned  upon  me,  assured 
me  that  I had  her  approval  of  what  I was  doing. 

What  were  the  precise  train  of  my  thoughts,  and  what  the 
subjects  of  conversation  between  us,  I am  unfortunately  now 
unable  to  recollect.  It  is  sufficient  to  remember,  that  I could 
not  believe  five  minutes  had  elapsed,  when  we  arrived  at  York 
Street. 

“ Then  you  confess  you  love  me,”  said  I,  as  I squeezed  her 
arm  to  my  side.  “ Then,  by  this  kiss,  I swear  never  to  relin- 
quish  ” 

What  I was  about  to  add  I am  sure  I know  not ; but  true  it 
is  that  a certain  smacking  noise  here  attracted  Mr.  Mark  An- 
thony’s attention,  who  started  round,  looked  us  full  in  the  face, 
and  then  gravely  added,  “ Enough  is  as  good  as  a feast.  I wish 
you  pleasant  drames,  Mr.  Larry  Kar,  if  that’s  your  name;  and 
you’ll  hear  from  me  in  the  morning.” 

“ I intend  it,”  said  I.  “ Good-mght,  dearest ; think  of ” 

The  slam  of  the  street  door  in  my  face  spoiled  the  peroration, 
and  I turned  towards  home. 

By  the  time  I reached  the  barracks,  the  united  effects  of 
champagne,  sherry,  and  Sheffield  iron,  had  in  a good  measure 
subsided,  and  my  head  had  become  sufficiently  clear  to  permit 
a slight  retrospect  of  the  evening’s  amusement. 

From  two  illusions  I was  at  last  awakened  : — First,  the  high- 
sheriff’s  ball  was  not  the  most  accurate  representation  of  high 
society;  secondly,  I was  not  deeply  enamored  of  Mary  Anne 
Moriarty.  Strange  as  it  may  seem,  and  how  little  soever  the 
apparent  connection  between  those  two  facts,  the  truth  of  one 
had  a considerable  influence  in  deciding  the  other.  “ JS/'importe” 
said  I,  “ the  thing  is  over ; it  was  rather  good  fun,  too,  upon  the 
whole — saving  the  chute  des  casseroles  ; and  as  to  the  lady,  she 
must  have  seen  it  was  a joke  as  well  as  myself.  At  least,  so  I 
am  decided  it  shall  be  ; and  as  there  was  no  witness  to  our  con- 
versation, the  thing  is  easily  got  out  of.” 

The  following  day,  as  I was  dressing  to  ride  out,  my  servant 
announced  no  less  a person  than  Mr.  Mark  Anthony  Fitzpatrick, 
‘who  said  “that  he  came  upon  a little  business,  and  must  see  me 
immediately.” 

Mr.  Fitzpatrick,  upon  being  announced,  speedily  opened  his 
negotiation  by  asking,  in  very  terse  and  unequivocal  phrase,  my 
intentions  regarding  his  sister-in-law.  After  professing  the  most 
^rfect  astonishment  at  the  question,  and  its  possible  import,  I 


A REMINISCENCE. 


329 

replied,  that  she  was  a most  charming  person,  with  whom  I in- 
tended to  have  nothing  whatever  to  do. 

“And  maybe  you  never  proposed  for  her  at  the  ball  last 
night  ? ” 

“ Propose  for  a lady  at  a ball  the  first  time  I ever  met  her  ! ” 

“Just  so.  Can  you  carry  your  memory  so  far  back  ? or,  per- 
haps, I had  better  refresh  it.”  And  he  here  repeated  the  whole 
substance  of  my  conversation  on  my  way  homeward,  sometimes 
in  the  very  words  I used. 

“ But,  my  dear  sir,  the  young  lady  could  never  have  supposed 
I used  such  language  as  this  you  have  repeated  ? ” 

“ So,  then,  you  intend  to  break  off?  Well,  then,  it’s  right  to 
tell  you  that  you’re  in  a very  ugly  scrape,  for  it  was  my  wife  you 
took  home  last  night — not  Miss  Moriarty ; and  I leave  you  to 
choose  at  your  leisure  whether  you’d  rather  be  defendant  in  a 
suit  for  breach  of  promise  or  seduction  ; and,  upon  my  con- 
science, I think  it’s  civil  in  me  to  give  you  a choice.” 

What  a pretty  disclosure  was  here  ! So  that  while  I was  im- 
agining myself  squeezing  the  hand  and  winning  the  heart  of  the 
fair  Mary  Anne,  I was  merely  making  a case  of  strong  evidence 
for  a jury,  that  might  expose  me  to  the  world,  and  half  ruin  me 
in  damages.  There  was  but  one  course  open — to  make  a fight 
for  it ; and,  from  what  I saw  of  my  friend  Mark  Anthony,  this 
did  not  seem  difficult. 

I accordingly  assumed  a high  tone — laughed  at  the  entire  af- 
fair— said  it  was  a “ way  that  we  had  in  the  army  ” — that  “ we 
never  meant  anything  by  it,”  etc.,  etc. 

In  a few  minutes  I perceived  the  bait  was  taking.  Mr.  Fitz- 
patrick’s west  country  blood  was  up  : all  thought  of  the  legal 
resource  was  abandoned  ; and  he  flung  out  of  the  room  to  find 
a friend,  I having  given  him  the  name  of  “ one  of  ours  ” as  mine 
upon  the  occasion.' 

Very  little  time  was  lost,  for  before  three  o’clock  that  after- 
noon a meeting  was  fixed  for  the  following  morning  at  the  North 
Bull ; and  I had  the  satisfaction  of  hearing  that  I only  escaped 
the  malignant  eloquence  of  Holmes  in  the  King’s  Bench,  to  be 
“ blazed  ” at  by  the  best  shot  on  the  western  circuit.  The 
thought  was  not  agreeable,  and  I indemnified  myself  for  the 
scrape  by  a very  satisfactory  anathema  upon  the  high  sheriff, 
and  his  ball,  and  his  confounded  saucepans  ; for  to  the  lady’s 
sympathy  for  my  sufferings  I attributed  much  of  my  folly. 

At  eight  the  next  morning  I found  myself  standing  with  Cur- 
zon  and  the  doctor  upon  the  bleak  portion  of  her  Majesty’s  do- 
minions they  term  the  North  Bull,  waiting,  in  a chilly  rain,  and 
a raw  fog,  till  it  pleased  Mark  An^™Tr  ^^oatrick  to  come  and 


330 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


shoot  me — such  being  the  precise  terms  of  our  combat,  in  the 
opinion  of  all  parties. 

The  time,  however,  passed  on,  and  half-past  eight,  three- 
quarters,  and  at  last  nine  o’clock,  without  his  appearing ; when, 
just  as  Curzon  had  resolved  upon  our  leaving  the  ground,  a 
hack-jaunting  car  was  seen  driving  at  full  speed  along  the  road 
near  us.  It  came  nearer,  and  at  length  drew  up ; two  men 
leaped  off  and  came  towards  us,  one  of  whom,  as  he  came  for- 
ward, took  off  his  hat  politely,  and  introduced  himself  as  Mr. 
O’Gorman,  the  fighting  friend  of  Mark  Anthony. 

“ It’s  a mighty  unpleasant  business  I’m  come  upon,  gentle- 
men,” said  he.  “ Mr.  Fitzpatrick  has  been  unavoidably  pre- 
vented from  having  the  happiness  to  meet  you  this  morn- 
ing  ” 

“ Then  you  can’t  expect  us,  sir,  to  dance  attendance  upon  him 
here  to-morrow,”  said  Curzon,  interrupting. 

“ By  no  manner  of  means,”  replied  the  other,  placidly,  “ for 
it  would  be  equally  inconvenient  for  him  to  be  here  then.  But 
I have  only  to  say,  that  as  I’m  here  for  my  friend,  and  know  all 
the  particulars  of  the  case,  maybe  you’d  have  the  kindness  to 
waive  etiquette,  and  let  me  stand  in  his  place.” 

“ Certainly  and  most  decidedly  not,”  said  Curzon.  “ Waive 
etiquette  ! — why,  sir,  we  have  no  quarrel  with  you ; never  saw 
you  before.” 

“ Well,  now,  isn’t  this  hard  ? ” said  Mr.  O’Gorman,  addressing 
his  friend,  who  stood  by  with  a pistol-case  under  his  arm ; “ but 
I told  Mark  that  I was  sure  they’d  be  standing  upon  punctilio, 
for  they  were  English.  Well,  sir,”  said  he,  turning  towards 
Curzon,  “ there’s  but  one  way  to  arrange  it  now,  that  I see. 
Mr.  Fitzpatrick,  you  must  know,  was  arrested  this  morning  for 
a trifle  of  ^140.  If  you,  or  your  friend  there,  will  join  us  in  the 
bail,  we  can  get  him  out,  and  he’ll  fight  you  in  the  morning  to 
your  satisfaction.” 

When  the  astonishment  this  proposal  had  created  subsided, 
we  assured  O’Gorman  that  we  were  noways  disposed  to  pay  such 
a price  for  our  amusement — a fact  that  seemed  considerably  to 
surprise  both  him  and  his  friend — and  adding,  that  to  Mr.  Fitz- 
patrick personally  we  should  feel  bound  to  hold  ourselves 
pledged  at  a future  period,  we  left  the  ground,  Curzon  laugh- 
ing heartily  at  the  original  expedient  thus  suggested,  while  I in- 
wardly pronounced  a most  glowing  eulogy  on  the  law  of  impris- 
onment for  debt. 

Before  Mr.  Fitzpatrick  obtained  the  benefit  of  the  act,  we 
were  ordered  abroad,  and  I have  never  since  heard  of  him. 


THE  TWO  LETTERS . 


33i 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

THE  TWO  LETTERS. 

From  the  digression  of  the  last  chapter  I was  recalled  by  the 
sight  of  the  two  letters  which  lay,  during  my  reverie,  unopened 
before  me.  I first  broke  the  seal  of  Lady  Callonby’s  epistle, 
which  ran  thus  : — 


“ Munich,  La  Croix  Blanche. 

“ My  dear  Mr.  Lorrequer, — I have  just  heard  from  Kilkee 
that  you  are  at  length  about  to  pay  us  your  long-promised  visit,  and 
write  these  few  lines  to  beg  that  before  leaving  Paris  you  will  kindly 
execute  for  me  the  commissions  of  which  I enclose  a formidable 
list,  or  at  least  as  many  of  them  as  you  can  conveniently  accom- 
plish. Our  stay  here  now  will  be  so  short,  that  it  will  require 
all  your  despatch  to  overtake  us  before  reaching  Milan,  Lady 
Jane’s  health  requiring  an  immediate  change  of  climate.  Our 
present  plans  are,  to  winter  in  Italy,  although  such  will  inter- 
fere considerably  with  Lord  Callonby,  who  is  pressed  much  by 
his  friends  to  accept  office.  However,  all  this  and  other  gossip 
I reserve  for  our  meeting.  Meanwhile  adieu  ! and  if  any  of  my 
commissions  bore  you,  omit  them  at  once,  except  the  white  roses 
and  the  Brussels  veil,  which  Lady  Jane  is  most  anxious  for. 

“ Sincerely  yours, 

“ Charlotte  Callonby.” 

How  much  did  these  few  and  apparently  commonplace  lines 
convey  to  me  2 First,  my  visit  was  not  only  expected,  but  act- 
ually looked  forward  to,  canvassed — perhaps  I might  almost 
whisper  to  myself  the  flattery — wished  for.  Again,  Lady  Jane’s 
health  was  spoken  of  as  precarious ; less  actual  illness— I said 
to  myself — than  mere  delicacy  requiring  the  bluer  sky  and 
warmer  air  of  Italy.  Perhaps  her  spirits  were  affected — some 
mental  malady — some  ill-placed  passion — que  sais-je  2 In  fact, 
my  brain  ran  on  so  fast  in  its  devisings,  that  by  a quick  process, 
less  logical  than  pleasing,  I satisfied  myself  that  the  lovely  Lady 
Jane  Callonby  was  actually  in  love,  with  whom  let  the  reader 
guess  at.  And  Lord  Callonby,  too,  about  to  join  the  ministry — 
well,  all  the  better  to  have  one’s  father-in-law  in  power — promo- 
tion is  so  cursed  slow  now-a-days.  And  lastly,  the  sly  allusion 
to  the  commissions — the  malice  of  introducing  her  name  to  in- 
terest me.  With  such  materials  as  these  to  build  upon,  frail  as 
they  may  seem  to  others,  T r~'md  no  difficulty  in  regarding  my- 


332  HARRY  LORREQUER. 

self  as  the  dear  friend  of  the  family,  and  the  acknowledged  suitor 
of  Lady  Jane. 

In  the  midst,  however,  of  all  my  self-gratulation,  my  eye  fell 
upon  the  letter  of  Emily  Bingham,  and  I suddenly  remembered 
how  fatal  to  all  such  happy  anticipations  it  might  prove.  I tore 
it  open  in  passionate  haste  and  read : — 


“ My  dear  Mr.  Lorrequer, — As  from  the  interview  we  have 
had  this  morning  I am  inclined  to  believe  that  I have  gained 
your  affections,  I think  that  I should  ill  requite  such  a state  of 
your  feeling  for  me,  were  I to  conceal  that  I cannot  return  you 
mine — in  fact,  that  they  are  not  mine  to  bestow.  This  frank 
avowal,  whatever  pain  it  may  have  cost  me,  I think  I owe  to 
you  to  make.  You  will  perhaps  say,  the  confession  should  have 
been  earlier;  to  which  I reply,  it  should  have  been  so,  had  I 
known,  or  even  guessed  at  the  nature  of  your  feelings  for  me. 
For — and  I write  it  in  all  truth,  and  perfect  respect  for  you — I 
only  saw  in  your  attentions  the  flirting  habits  of  a man  of  the 
world,  with  a very  unformed  and  ignorant  girl  of  eighteen,  with 
whom,  as  it  was  his  amusement  to  travel,  he  deemed  it  worth 
his  while  to  talk.  I now  see,  and  bitterly  regret,  my  error,  yet 
deem  it  better  to  make  this  painful  confession  than  suffer  you  to 
remain  in  a delusion  which  may  involve  your  happiness  in  the 
wreck  of  mine.  I am  most  faithfully  your  friend, 

“ Emily  Bingham.” 

“ What  a charming  girl  she  is ! ” I cried,  as  I finished  the 
letter ; “ how  full  of  true  feeling,  how  honorable,  how  straight- 
forward ! and  yet  it  is  devilish  strange  how  cunningly  she  played 
her  part — and  it  seems  now  that  I never  did  touch  her  affections  ; 
Master  Harry,  I begin  to  fear  you  are  not  altogether  the  awful 
lady-killer  you  have  been  thinking.”  Thus  did  I meditate  upon 
this  singular  note — my  delight  at  being  once  more  “free” 
mingling  with  some  chagrin  that  I was  jockeyed,  and  by  a young 
miss  of  eighteen  too.  “ Confoundedly  disagreeable  if  the  mess 
knew  it,”  thought  I.  “ Per  Bacco  ! how  they  would  quiz  upon 
my  difficulty  to  break  off  a match,  when  the  lady  was  only 
anxious  to  get  rid  of  me” 

“ This  affair  must  never  come  to  their  ears,  or  I am  ruined ; 
and  now,  the  sooner  all  negotiations  are  concluded  the  better. 
I must  obtain  a meeting  with  Emily,  acknowledge  the  truth  and 
justice  of  all  her  views,  express  my  deep  regret  at  the  issue  of 
the  affair,  slily  hint  that  I have  been  merely  playing  her  own 
game  back  upon  her;  for  it  would  be  the  devil  to  let  her  go  off 


THE  TWO  LETTERS. 


333 


with  the  idea  that  she  had  singed  me,  yet  never  caught  fire  her- 
self ; so  that  we  both  shall  draw  stakes,  and  part  friends.” 

This  valiant  resolution  taken,  I wrote  a very  short  note,  beg- 
ging an  interview,  and  proceeded  to  make  as  formidable  a toilet 
as  I could  for  the  forthcoming  meeting;  before  I had  concluded 
which,  a verbal  answer  by  her  maid  informed  me,  that  “ Miss 
Bingham  was  alone,  and  ready  to  receive  me.” 

As  I took  my  way  along  the  corridor,  I could  not  help  feeling 
that  among  all  my  singular  scrapes  and  embarrassing  situations 
through  life,  my  present  mission  was  certainly  not  the  least — the 
difficulty,  such  as  it  was,  being  considerably  increased  by  my 
own  confounded  amour propre , that  would  not  leave  me  satisfied 
with  obtaining  my  liberty,  if  I could  not  insist  upon  coming  off 
scathless  also.  In  fact,  I was  not  content  to  evacuate  the  for- 
tress, if  I were  not  to  march  out  with  all  the  honors  of  war.  This 
feeling  I neither  attempt  to  palliate  nor  defend,  I merely  chron- 
icle it  as  are  too  many  of  these  Confessions,  a matter  of  truth, 
yet  not  the  less  a subject  for  sorrow. 

My  hand  was  upon  the  lock  of  the  door.  I stopped,  hesitated, 
and  listened.  I certainly  heard  something.  Yes,  it  is  too  true 
— she  is  sobbing.  What  a total  overthrow  of  all  my  selfish  re- 
solves, all  my  egotistical  plans,  did  that  slight  cadence  give. 
She  was  crying — her  tears  for  the  bitter  pain  she  concluded  I 
was  suffering  mingling  doubtless  with  sorrow  for  her  own  sources 
of  grief — for  it  was  clear  to  me  that  whoever  may  have  been  my 
favored  rival,  the  attachment  was  either  unknown  to  or  unsanc- 
tioned by  the  mother.  I wished  I had  not  listened ; all  my  de- 
terminations were  completely  routed,  and  as  I opened  the  door 
I felt  my  heart  beating  almost  audibly  against  my  side. 

In  a subdued  half-light — tempered  through  the  rose-colored 
curtains,  with  a small  china  cup  of  newly-plucked  moss-roses  up- 
on the  table — sat,  or  rather  leaned,  Emily  Bingham,  her  face 
buried  in  her  hands  as  I entered.  She  did  not  hear  my  approach, 
so  that  I had  above  a minute  to  admire  the  graceful  character  of 
ner  head,  and  the  fine  undulating  curve  of  her  neck  and  shoul- 
ders, before  I spoke. 

“Miss  Bingham,”  said  I. 

She  started — looked  up — her  dark  blue  eyes,  brilliant  though 
tearful,  were  fixed  upon  me  for  a second,  as  if  searching  my  very 
inmost  thoughts.  She  held  out  her  hand,  and  turning  her  head 
aside,  made  room  for  me  on  the  sofa  beside  her.  “ Strange  girl,” 
thought  I,  “that  in  the  very  moment  of  breaking  with  a man  for- 
ever, puts  on  her  most  fascinating  toilet,  arrays  herself  in  her 
most  bewitching  manner,  and  gives  him  a reception  only  calcu- 
lated to  turn  his  head,  and  render  him  ten  times  more  in  love 


334 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


than  ever.”  Her  hand,  which  remained  still  in  mine,  was  burn- 
ing as  if  in  fever,  and  the  heaving  movement  of  her  neck  and 
shoulders  showed  me  how  much  this  meeting  cost  her.  We  were 
both  silent,  till  at  length,  feeling  that  any  chance  interruption 
might  leave  us  as  far  as  ever  from  understanding  each  other,  I 
resolved  to  begin. 

“ My  dear,  dear  Emily,”  I said,  “ do  not,  I entreat  of  you,  add 
to  the  misery  I am  this  moment  enduring  by  letting  me  see  you 
thus.  Whatever  your  wrongs  towards  me,  this  is  far  too  heavy 
a retribution.  My  object  was  never  to  make  you  wretched  ; if 
I am  not  to  obtain  the  bliss  to  strive  and  make  you  happy ” 

“ Oh  ! Harry — ” this  was  the  first  time  she  had  ever  so  called 
me — “ how  like  you,  to  think  of  me — of  me , at  such  a time,  as  if 
I was  not  the  cause  of  all  our  present  unhappiness — but  not  wil- 
fully, not  intentionally.  Oh,  no,  no — your  attentions — the  flat- 
tery of  your  notice,  took  me  at  once,  and,  in  the  gratification  of 
my  self-esteem,  I forgot  all  else.  I heard,  too,  that  you  were 
engaged  to  another,  and  believing,  as  I did,  that  you  were  trifling 
with  my  affections,  I spared  no  effort  to  win  yours.  I confess  it, 
I wished  this  with  all  my  soul.” 

“ And  now,”  said  I,  “ that  you  have  gained  them  ” — here 
was  a pretty  sequel  to  my  well-matured  plans  ! — “ and  now, 
Emily ” 

“ But  have  I really  done  so  ?”  said  she,  hurriedly  turning  round 
and  fixing  her  large  full  eyes  upon  me,  while  one  of  her  hands 
played  carelessly  through  my  hair — “ have  I your  heart  ? your 
whole  heart  ? ” 

“ Can  you  doubt  it,  dearest  ? ” said  I,  passionately  pressing 
her  to  my  bosom,  and  at  the  same  time  muttering,  “ What  the 
devil’s  in  the  wind  now ; we  are  surely  not  going  to  patch  up 
our  separation,  and  make  love  in  earnest  ? ” 

There  she  lay,  her  head  upon  my  shoulder,  her  long,  brown, 
waving  ringlets  falling  loosely  across  my  face  and  on  my  bosom, 
her  hand  in  mine.  What  were  her  thoughts  I cannot  guess  ; 
mine — God  forgive  me  ! — were  a fervent  wish  either  for  her 
mother’s  appearance,  or  that  the  hotel  would  suddenly  take  fire, 
or  some  other  extensive  calamity  arise  to  put’the  finishing  stroke 
to  this  embarrassing  situation. 

None  of  these,  however,  were  destined  to  occur  ; and  Emily 
lay  still  and  motionless  as  she  was,  scarce  seeming  to  breathe, 
and  pale  as  death.  “ What  can  this  mean  ? ” said  I ; “ surely 
this  is  not  the  usual  way  to  part  with  a rejected  suitor  ? if  it  be, 
why  then,  by  Jupiter,  the  successful  one  must  have  rather  the 
worst  of  it — and  I fervently  hope  that  Lady  Jane  be  not  at  this 
moment  giving  her  conge ' to  some  disappointed  swain.”  She 


THE  TWO  LETTERS. 


335 


slowly  raised  her  large,  block-fringed  eyelids,  and  looked  into 
my  face  with  an  expression  at  once  so  tender  and  so  plaintive, 
that  I felt  a struggle  within  myself  whether  to  press  her  to  my 

heart,  or what  the  deuce  was  the  alternative  ? — I hope  my 

reader  knows,  for  I really  do  not ! “ And  after  all,”  thought  I, 
“ if  we  are  to  marry,  I am  only  anticipating  a little  ; and  if  not, 
why  then  a 4 chaste  salute ,’  as  Winifred  Jenkins  calls  it,  she’ll  be 
none  the  worse  for.”  Acting  at  once  upon  this  resolve,  I leaned 
downwards,  and  was  passing  back  her  ringlets  from  her  now 
flushed  cheek,  when  I was  startled  by  my  name,  which  I heard 
called  several  times  in  the  corridor.  The  door  at  the  same  in- 
stant was  burst  suddenly  open,  and  Trevanion  appeared. 

44  Harry,  Harry  Lorrequer,”  cried  he,  as  he  entered ; then 
suddenly  checking  himself,  added,  44  a thousand,  ten  thousand 
pardons,  but ” 

44  But  what,”  cried  I,  passionately,  forgetting  all  save  the  sit- 
uation of  poor  Emily  at  the  moment — 44  what  can  justify ” 

44  Nothing  certainly  can  justify  such  an  intrusion,”  said  Tre- 
vanion, finishing  my  sentence  for  me,  44  except  the  very  near 
danger  you  run  this  moment  in  being  arrested.  O’Leary’s  im- 
prudence has  compromised  your  safety,  and  you  must  leave  Paris 
within  an  hour.” 

44  Oh,  Mr.  Trevanion,”  said  Emily,  who  by  this  time  had  re- 
gained a more  befitting  attitude,  44  pray  speak  out ; what  is  it  ? is 
Harry — is  Mr.  Lorrequer,  I mean — in  any  danger  ? ” 

44  Nothing  of  consequence,  Miss  Bingham,  if  he  only  acts  with 
prudence  and  be  guided  by  his  friends.  Lorrequer,  you 
will  find  me  in  your  apartments  in  half  an  hour — till  then 
adieu.” 

While  Emily  poured  forth  question  after  question  as  to  the 
nature  and  extent  of  my  present  difficulty,  I could  not  help  think- 
ing of  the  tact  by  which  Trevanion  escaped,  leaving  me  to  make 
my  adieux  to  Emily  as  best  I might — for  I saw  in  a glance  that 
I must  leave  Paris  at  once.  I,  therefore,  briefly  gave  her  to  un- 
derstand the  affair  at  the  salon — which  I suspected  to  be  the 
cause  of  the  threatened  arrest — and  was  about  to  profess  my  un- 
altered and  unalterable  attachment,  when  she  suddenly  stopped 
me. 

44  No,  Mr.  Lorrequer,  no.  All  is  over  between  us.  We  must 
never  meet  again — never.  We  have  both  been  playing  a part. 
Good-by — good-by  : do  not  altogether  forget  me — and  once 
more,  Harry,  good-by.” 

What  I might  have  said,  thought,  or  done,  I know  not ; but 
the  arrival  of  Mrs.  Bingham’s  carriage  at  the  door  left  no  time 
for  anything  but  escape.  So,  once  more  pressing  her  hand  firmly 


336 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


to  my  lips,  I said — “ Au  revoir , Emily,  au  revoir , not  good-by,*’ 
and  rushing  from  the  room,  regained  my  room  just  as  Mrs. 
Bingham  reached  the  corridor. 


CHAPTER  XLIL 

MR.  O’LEARY’S  CAPTURE. 

“ Does  she  really  care  for  me  ? ” was  my  first  question  to  my- 
self as  I left  the  room.  “ Is  this  story  about  pre-engaged  affec- 
tions merely  a got-up  thing,  to  try  the  force  of  my  attachment 
for  her?  for,  if  not,  her  conduct  is  most  inexplicable  ; and  great 
as  my  experience  has  been  in  such  affairs,  I avow  myself  out- 
manoeuvred.” While  I thought  over  this  difficulty,  Trevanion 
came  up,  and  in  a few  words  informed  me  more  fully  upon  what 
he  hinted  at  before.  It  appeared  that  O’Leary,  much  more  alive 
to  the  imperative  necessity  of  avoiding  detection  by  his  wife,  than 
of  involving  himself  with  the  police,  had  thrown  out  most  dark 
and  mysterious  hints  in  the  hotel  as  to  the  reason  of  his  residence 
at  Paris,  fully  impressed  with  the  idea  that,  to  be  a good  Pole, 
he  need  only  talk  “ revolutionary ; ” devote  to  the  powers  below 
all  kings,  czars,  and  kaisers ; weep  over  the  wrongs  of  his  na- 
tion ; wear  rather  seedy  habiliments,  and  smoke  profusely.  The 
latter  were  with  him  easy  conditions,  and  he  so  completely  acted 
the  former  to  the  life,  that  he  had  been  that  morning  arrested  in 
the  Tuileries  gardens,  under  several  treasonable  charges — among 
others,  the  conspiracy,  with  some  of  his  compatriots,  to  murder 
the  minister  of  war. 

However  laughable  such  an  accusation  against  poor  O’Leary, 
one  circumstance  rendered  the  matter  anything  but  ludicrous. 
Although  he  must  come  off  free  of  this  grave  offence,  yet,  as 
the  salon  transaction  would  necessarily  now  become  known,  I 
should  be  immediately  involved,  and  my  departure  from  Paris 
prevented. 

“ So,”  said  Trevanion,  as  he  briefly  laid  before  me  the  difficulty 
of  my  position,  “ you  may  perceive  that  however  strongly  your 
affections  may  be  engaged  in  a certain  quarter,  it  is  quite  as 
well  to  think  of  leaving  Paris  without  delay.  O’Leary’s  arrest 
will  be  followed  by  yours,  depend  upon  it,  and  once  under  the 
surveillance  of  the  police,  escape  is  impossible.” 

“ But,  seriously,  Trevanion,”  said  I,  nettled  at  the  tone  of  rail- 
lery he  spoke  in,  “ you  must  see  that  there  is  nothing  whatever 
in  that  business.  I was  merely  taking  my  farewell  of  the  fair 


MR.  O'LEARY'S  CAPTURE. 


337 


Emily.  Her  affections  have  been  long  since  engaged,  and 

I T-” 

“ Only  endeavoring  to  support  her  in  her  attachment  to  the 
more  favored  rival.  Is  it  not  so  ? ” 

“ Come,  no  quizzing.  Faith,  I began  to  feel  very  uncomfort- 
able about  parting  with  her,  the  moment  that  I discovered  that 
I must  do  so.” 

“ So  I guessed,  ” said  Trevanion,  with  a dry  look,  “from  the 
interesting  scene  I so  abruptly  trespassed  upon.  But  you  are 
right ; a little  bit  of  tenderness  is  never  misplaced,  so  long  as 
the  object  is  young,  pretty,  and  still  more  than  all,  disposed  for 
it.” 

“Quite  out;  perfectly  mistaken,  believe  me.  Emily  not  only 
never  cared  for  me,  but  she  has  gone  far  enough  to  tell  me  so.” 

“Then,  from  all  I know  of  such  matters,”  replied  he,  “you 
were  both  in  a very  fair  way  to  repair  that  mistake  on  her  part. 
But  hark  ! what  is  this  ? ” A tremendous  noise  in  the  street 
here  interrupted  our  colloquy,  and  on  opening  the  window,  a 
strange  scene  presented  itself  to  our  eyes.  In  the  middle  of  a 
dense  mass  of  moving  rabble,  shouting,  yelling,  and  screaming 
with  all  their  might,  were  two  gendarmes  with  a prisoner  be- 
tween them.  The  unhappy  man  was  followed  by  a rather  over- 
dressed, middle-aged  looking  woman,  who  appeared  to  be  de- 
sirous of  bestowing  the  most  coram  publico  endearments  upon 
the  culprit,  whom  a second  glance  showed  us  was  O’Leary. 

“ I tell  you,  my  dear  madam,  you  are  mistaken,”  said  O’Leary, 
addressing  her  with  great  sternness  of  manner  and  voice. 

“ Mistaken  ! never,  never.  How  could  I ever  be  mistaken  in 
that  dear  voice,  those  lovely  eyes,  that  sweet  little  nose  ? ” 

“Take  her  away;  she’s  deranged,”  said  O’Leary  to  the  gen- 
darmes. “ Sure,  if  I’m  a Pole,  that’s  enough  of  misfortune.” 

“ I’ll  follow  him  to  the  end  of  the  earth,  I will.” 

“ I’m  going  to  the  galleys,  God  be  praised  ! ” said  O’Leary. 

“To  the  galleys — to  the  guillotine — anywhere,”  responded 
she,  throwing  herself  upon  his  neck,  much  less,  as  it  seemed,  to 
his  gratification,  than  that  of  the  mob,  who  laughed  and  shouted 
most  uproariously. 

“ Mrs.  Ram,  ain’t  you  ashamed  ? ” 

“ He  calls  me  by  my  name,”  said  she,  “ and  he  attempts  to 
disown  me.  Ha  ! ha  ! ha  ! ha  ! ” and  immediately  fell  off  into 
a strong  paroxysm  of  kicking,  and  pinching,  and  punching  the 
bystanders,  a malady  well-known  under  the  name  of  hysterics ; 
but  being  little  more  than  a privileged  mode,  among  certain 
ladies,  of  paying  off  some  scores,  which  it  is  not  thought  decent 
to  do  in  their  more  sober  moments, 

23 


338 


HARRY  L ORREQUER. 


“ Lead  me  away — anywhere — convict  me  of  what  you  like/1 
said  he,  “but  don’t  let  her  follow  me.” 

The  gendarmes,  who  little  comprehended  the  nature  of  the 
scene  before  them,  were  not  sorry  to  anticipate  a renewal  of  it  on 
Mrs.  Ram’s  recovery,  and  accordingly  seized  the  opportunity  to 
march  on  with  O’Leary,  who  turned  the  corner  of  the  Rue 
Rivoli,  under  a shower  of  execrations  from  the  mob,  that  fell 
fortunately  most  unconsciously  upon  his  ears. 

The  possibility  of  figuring  in  such  a procession  contributed 
much  to  the  force  of  Trevanion’s  reasonings,  and  I resolved  to 
leave  Paris  at  once. 

“ Promise  me,  then,  to  involve  yourself  in  no  more  scrapes 
for  half-an-hour.  Pack  everything  you  may  want  with  you,  and, 
by  seven  o’clock,  I will  be  here  with  your  passport  and  all  ready 
for  a start.” 

With  a beating  brain,  and  in  a whirlwind  of  conflicting 
thoughts,  I threw  my  clothes  hither  and  thither  into  my  trunk  ; 
Lady  Jane  and  Emily  both  flitting  every  instant  before  my  im- 
agination, and  frequently  an  irresolution  to  proceed  stopping  all 
my  preparations  for  departure.  I sat  down  musing  upon  a 
chair,  and  half  determined  to  stay  where  I was,  come  what 
might  of  it.  Finally,  the  possibility  of  exposure  in  a trial  had 
its  weight.  I continued  by  occupation  till  the  last  coat  was 
folded,  and  the  lock  turned,  when  I seated  myself  opposite  my 
luggage,  and  waited  impatiently  for  my  friend’s  return. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

THE  JOURNEY. 

Trevanion  came  at  last.  He  had  obtained  my  passport,  and 
engaged  a carriage  to  convey  me  about  eight  miles,  where  I 
should  overtake  the  diligence — such  a mode  of  travelling  being 
judged  more  likely  to  favor  my  escape,  by  attracting  less  atten- 
tion than  posting.  It  was  past  ten  when  I left  the  Rue  St. 
Honore,  having  shaken  hands  with  Trevanion  for  the  last  time, 
and  charged  him  with  ten  thousand  soft  messages  for  the 
“ friends  ” I left  behind  me. 

When  I arrived  at  the  village  of  St.  Jacques,  the  diligence 
had  not  come  up.  To  pass  away  the  time,  I ordered  a little 
supper  and  a bottle  of  St.  Julien.  Scarcely  had  I seated  myself 
to  my  cutlet,  when  the  rapid  whirl  of  wheels  was  heard  without, 
and  a cab  drew  up  suddenly  at  the  doo~  ^°“^ally  does  the 


THE  JOURNEY. 


339 


fugitive  suspect  pursuit,  that  my  immediate  impression  was,  that 
I was  followed.  In  this  notion  I was  strengthened  by  the 
tones  of  a cracked,  discordant  voice,  asking  in  very  peculiar 
French  if  the  “ diligence  had  passed  ?”  Being  answered  in 
the  negative,  he  walked  into  the  room  where  I was,  and  speed- 
ily, by  his  appearance,  removed  any  apprehensions  I had  felt  as 
to  my  safety.  Nothing  could  less  resemble  the  tall  port  and 
sturdy  bearing  of  a gendarme,  than  the  diminutive  and  dwarfish 
individual  before  me.  His  height  could  scarcely  have  reached 
five  feet,  of  which  the  head  formed  fully  a fourth  part;  and 
even  this  was  rendered  in  appearance  still  greater  by  a mass  of 
loosely  floating  black  hair  that  fell  upon  his  neck  and  shoulders, 
and  gave  him  much  the  air  of  a “ black  lion  ” on  a signboard. 
His  black  frock — fur-collared  and  braided — his  ill- made  boots, 
his  meerschaum  projecting  from  his  breast-pocket,  above  all,  his 
unwashed  hands,  and  a heavy  gold  ring  upon  his  thumb — all 
made  an  ensemble  of  evidences  that  showed  he  could  be  nothing 
but  a German.  His  manner  was  bustling,  impatient,  and  had 
it  not  been  ludicrous,  would  certainly  be  considered  as  insolent 
to  every  one  about  him,  for  he  stared  each  person  abruptly  in 
the  face,  and  mumbled  some  broken  expressions  of  his  opinion 
of  them  half-aloud  in  German.  His  comments  ran  on : — “ Bon 
soir,  Monsieur,”  to  the  host ; “ ein  Bosewicht,  ganz  sicher  ” — 
“a  scoundrel  without  doubt;  ” and  then  added,  still  lower,  “Rob 
you  here  as  soon  as  look  at  you.”  “Ah,  postilion!  comment 
va  ? ” — “ much  more  like  a brigand  after  all — I know  which  I’d 
take  you  for.”  “ Verfluchte  Frau  ” — “ how  ugly  the  woman  is.” 
This  compliment  was  intended  for  the  hostess,  who  courtesied 
down  to  the  ground  in  her  ignorance.  At  last,  approaching  me, 
he  stopped,  and  having  steadily  surveyed  me,  muttered,  “ Ein 
echter  Englander  ” — “a  thorough  Englishman,  always  eating.” 
I could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  assure  him  that  I was  per- 
fectly aware  of  his  flattering  impression  in  my  behalf,  though  I 
had  speedily  to  regret  my  precipitancy,  for,  less  mindful  of  the 
rebuke  than  pleased  at  finding  some  one  who  understood  Ger- 
man, he  drew  his  chair  beside  me  and  entered  into  conversa- 
tion. 

Every  one  has  surely  felt,  some  time  or  other  in  life,  the  in- 
sufferable annoyance  of  having  his  thoughts  and  reflections  in- 
terfered with  and  broken  in  upon  by  the  vulgar  impertinence 
and  egotism  of  some  “ bore,”  who,  mistaking  your  abstraction 
for  attention,  and  your  despair  for  delight,  inflicts  upon  you 
his  whole  life  and  adventures,  when  your  own  immediate  des- 
tinies are  perhaps  vacillating  in  the  scale. 

Such  a doom  was  now  mine ! Occupied  as  I was  by  the 


340 


HARR  V LORREQUER. 


hope  of  the  future,  and  my  fears  lest  any  impediment  to  my  es- 
cape should  blast  my  prospects  forever,  I preferred  appearing 
to  pay  attention  to  this  confounded  fellow’s  “ personal  narra- 
tive,” lest  his  questions,  turning  on  my  own  affairs,  might  excite 
suspicions  as  to  the  reasons  of  my  journey. 

I longed  most  ardently  for  the  arrival  of  the  diligence,  trust- 
ing that  with  true  German  thrift,  my  friend  might  prefer  the 
cheapness  of  the  interieur  to  the  magnificence  of  the  coupe, 
and  that  thus  I should  see  no  more  of  him.  But  in  this  pleas- 
ing hope  I was  destined  to  be  disappointed,  for  I was  scarcely 
seated  in  my  place  when  I found  him  beside  me.  The  third 
occupant  of  this  “ privileged  den,”  as  well  as  my  lamp-light 
survey  of  him  permitted,  afforded  nothing  to  build  on  as  a 
compensation  for  the  German.  He  was  a tall,  lanky,  lantern- 
jawed  man,  with  a hook  nose  and  projecting  chm  ; his  hair, 
which  had  only  been  permitted  to  grow  very  lately,  formed  that 
curve  upon  his  forehead  we  see  in  certain  old-fashioned  horse- 
shoe wigs  ; his  compressed  lip  and  hard  features  gave  the  ex- 
pression of  one  who  had  seen  a good  deal  of  the  world,  and 
didn’t  think  the  better  of  it  in  consequence.  I observed  that 
he  listened  to  the  few  words  we  spoke  while  getting  in  with 
some  attention,  and  then,  like  a person  who  did  not  compre- 
hend the  language,  turned  his  shoulder  towards  us,  and  soon 
fell  asleep.  I was  now  left  to  the  “ tender  mercies  ” of  my 
talkative  companion,  who  certainly  spared  me  not.  Notwith- 
standing my  vigorous  resolves  to  turn  a deaf  ear  to  his  nar- 
ratives, I could  not  avoid  learning  that  he  was  the  director  of 
music  to  some  German  prince — that  he  had  been  to  Paris  to 
bring  out  an  opera  which,  having,  as  he  said,  an  “immense  suc- 
cess ! ” he  was  about  to  repeat  in  Strasbourg.  He  further  in- 
formed me  that  a depute  from  Alsace  had  obtained  for  him  a gov- 
ernment permission  to  travel  with  the  courier ; but  that  he,  be- 
ing “ social  ” withal,  and  noways  proud,  preferred  the  democ- 
racy of  the  diligence  to  the  solitary  grandeur  of  the  caleche 
(for  which  Heaven  confound  him),  and  thus  became  my  pres- 
ent companion. 

Music  in  all  its  shapes  and  forms  made  up  the  staple  of  the 
little  man’s  talk.  There  was  scarcely  an  opera  or  an  overture, 
from  Mozart  to  Donizetti,  that  he  did  not  insist  upon  singing  a 
scene  from  ; and  wound  up  all  by  a very  pathetic  lamentation 
over  English  insensibility  to  music,  which  he  in  great  part  at- 
tributed to  our  having  only  one  opera,  which  he  kindly  in- 
formed me  was  “ Bob  et  Joan.”  However  indisposed  to  check 
the  current  of  his  loquacity  by  any  effort  of  mine,  I could  not 
avoid  the  temptation  to  translate  for  him  a story  which  Sii 


THE  JOURNEY. 


34i 


Walter  Scott  once  related  to  me,  and  was  so  far  a propos , as 
conveying  my  own  sense  of  the  merits  of  our  national  music, 
such  as  we  have  it,  by  its  association  with  scenes,  and  persons, 
and  places  we  are  all  familiar  with,  however  unintelligible  to 
the  ear  of  a stranger. 

A young  French  vicomte  was  fortunate  enough  to  obtain  in 
marriage  the  hand  of  a singularly  pretty  Scotch  heiress  of  an 
ancient  family  and  good  fortune,  who,  amongst  her  other  en- 
dowments, possessed  a large  old-fashioned  house  in  a remote 
district  of  the  Highlands,  where  her  ancestors  had  resided  for 
centuries.  Thither  the  young  couple  repaired  to  pass  the 
honey-moon  ; the  enamored  bridegroom  gladly  availing  him- 
self of  the  opportunity  to  ingratiate  himself  with  his  new  con- 
nection, by  adopting  the  reclusion  he  saw  practised  by  the  Eng- 
lish on  such  occasions.  However  consonant  to  our  notions  of 
happiness,  and  however  conducive  to  our  enjoyment  this  custom 
be — and  I have  strong  doubts  upon  the  subject — it  certainly 
prospered  ill  with  the  volatile  Frenchman,  who  pined  for 
Paris,  its  cafes,  its  boulevards,  its  maisons  de  jeu,  and  its  soir- 
ees. His  days  were  passed  in  looking  from  the  deep  and  nar- 
row windows  of  some  oak-framed  room  upon  the  bare  and  heath- 
clad  moors,  or  watching  the  cloud  shadows  as  they  passed 
across  the  dark  pine  trees  that  closed  the  distance. 

Bored  to  death,  and  convinced  that  he  had  sacrificed  enough, 
and  more  than  enough,  to  the  barbarism  which  demanded  such 
a sejour , he  was  sitting  one  evening  listlessly  upon  the  terrace  in 
front  of  the  house,  plotting  a speedy  escape  from  his  gloomy 
abode,  and  meditating  upon  the  life  of  pleasure  that  awaited  him, 
when  the  discordant  twang  of  some  savage  music  broke  upon 
his  ear,  and  roused  him  from  his  reverie.  The  wild  scream  and 
fitful  burst  of  a Highland  pibroch  is  certainly  not  the  most  likely 
thing  in  nature  to  allay  the  irritable  and  ruffled  feelings  of  an 
irascible  person — unless,  perhaps,  the  hearer  eschew  breeches. 
So  thought  the  vicomte.  He  started  hurriedly  up,  and  straight 
before  him,  up  the  gravel  walk,  beheld  the  stalwart  figure  and 
bony  frame  of  an  old  Highlander,  blowing,  with  all  his  lungs, 
the  “ Gathering  of  the  Clans.”  With  all  the  speed  he  could 
muster,  he  rushed  into  the  house,  and,  calling  his  servants,  or- 
dered them  to  expel  the  intruder,  and  drive  him  at  once  outside 
the  demesne.  When  the  mandate  was  made  known  to  the  old 
piper,  it  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  he  could  be  brought  to 
comprehend  it — for,  time  out  of  mind,  his  approach  had  been 

hailed  with  every  demonstration  of  rejoicing  ; and  now but 

no  ; the  thing  was  impossible — there  must  be  a mistake  some- 
where. He  was  accordingly  about  to  recommence,  when  a sec- 


342 


HARRY  LORREQCJER. 


ond  and  stronger  hint  suggested  to  him  that  it  were  safer  to 
depart.  “ Maybe  the  4 carl  ’ didna  like  the  pipes,”  said  the 
Highlander,  musingly,  as  he  packed  them  up  for  his  march. 
“ Maybe  he  didna  like  me;  perhaps,  too,  he  was  na  in  the  humor 
for  music,”  he  paused  for  an  instant  as  if  reflecting — not  satis- 
fied, probably,  that  he  had  hit  upon  the  true  solution — when  sud- 
denly his  eye  brightened,  his  lips  curled,  and  fixing  a look  upon 
the  angry  Frenchman,  he  said — “ Maybe  ye  are  right  enow — ye 
heard  them  ower  muckle  in  Waterloo  to  like  the  skirl  o’  them 
ever  since  ; ” with  which  satisfactory  explanation,  made  in  no 
spirit  of  bitterness  or  raillery,  but  in  the  simple  belief  that  he 
had  hit  the  mark  of  the  vicomte’s  antipathy,  the  old  man  gath- 
ered up  his  plaid  and  departed. 

However  disposed  I might  have  felt  towards  sleep,  the  little 
German  resolved  I should  not  obtain  any,  for  when  half  an  hour 
together  I would  preserve  a rigid  silence,  he,  nowise  daunted, 
had  recourse  to  some  German  “ Lied,”  which  he  gave  forth  with 
an  energy  of  voice  and  manner  that  must  have  aroused  every 
sleeper  in  the  diligence  ; so  that,  fain  to  avoid  this,  I did  my 
best  to  keep  him  on  the  subject  of  his  adventures,  which,  as  a 
man  of  successful  gallantly,  were  manifold  indeed.  Wearying 
at  last,  even  of  this  subordinate  part,  I fell  into  a kind  of  half 
doze,  the  words  of  a student  song  he  continued  to  sing  without 
ceasing  for  above  an  hour  being  the  last  waking  thought  on  my 
memory. 

Less  as  a souvenir  of  the  singer  than  a specimen  of  its  class  I 
give  here  a.  Tough  translation  of  the  well-known  Burschen  mel- 
ody called 


THE  POPE. 


i. 

the  Pope  he  leads  a happy  life, 

He  fears  not  married  care,  nor  strife, 
He  drinks  the  best  of  Rhenish  wine — 
f would  the  Pope’s  gay  lot  were  mine. 

CHORUS. 

He  drinks  the  best  of  Rhenish  wine — 
I would  the  Pope’s  gay  lot  were  mine. 

II. 

But  then  all  happy’s  not  his  life, 

He  has  not  maid,  nor  blooming  wife  \ 
Nor  child  has  he  to  raise  his  hope — 

I would  not  wish  to  be  the  Pope. 


THE  JOURNEY, 


344 


m. 

The  Sultan  better  pleases  me, 

His  is  a life  of  jollity ; 

His  wives  are  many  as  he  will — 

I would  the  Sultan’s  throne  then  fill. 


IV. 

But  even  he’s  a wretched  man, 

He  must  obey  his  Alcoran; 

And  dares  not  drink  one  drop  of  wine — 
I would  not  change  his  lot  for  mine. 

v. 

So  then  I’ll  hold  my  lowly  stand, 

And  live  in  German  Vaterland; 

I’ll  kiss  my  maiden  fair  and  fine, 

And  drink  the  best  of  Rhenish  wine. 


VI. 

Whene’er  my  maiden  kisses  me, 
I’ll  think  that  I the  Sultan  be ; 
And  when  my  cherry  glass  I tope, 
I’ll  fancy  then  I am  the  Pope. 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

THE  JOURNEY. 

It  was  with  a feeling  of  pleasure  I cannot  explain  that  I 
awoke  in  the  morning  and  found  myself  upon  the  road.  The 
turmoil,  the  bustle,  the  never-ending  difficulties  of  my  late  life 
in  Paris,  had  so  over-excited  and  worried  me,  that  I could  neither 
think  nor  reflect.  Now,  all  these  cares  and  troubles  were  be- 
hind me,  and  I felt  like  a liberated  prisoner  as  I looked  upon 
the  gray  dawn  of  the  coming  day,  as  it  gradually  melted  from 
its  dull  and  leaden  tint  to  the  pink  and  yellow  hue  of  the  rising 
sun.  The  broad  and  richly-colored  plains  of  la  belle  France 
were  before  me — and  it  is  la  belle  France , however  inferior  to 
parts  of  England  in  rural  beauty — the  large  tracts  of  waving 
yellow  corn,  undulating  like  a sea  in  the  morning  breeze — the 
interminable  reaches  of  forest,  upon  which  the  shadows  played 
and  flitted,  deepening  the  effect  and  mellowing  the  mass,  as  we 
see  them  in  Ruysdael’s  pictures — while  now  and  then  some  tall- 
gabled,  antiquated  chateau  with  its  mutilated  terrace  and  dow- 
ager-like air  of  bygone  grandeur,  would  peep  forth  at  the  end  of 
some  long  avenue  of  lime-trees,  all  having  their  own  features  of 


34 1 


HARRY  LORRE  QUER. 


beauty — and  a beauty  with  which  every  object  around  harmo- 
nizes well.  The  sluggish  peasant,  in  his  blouse  and  striped 
nightcap — the  heavily  caparisoned  horse,  shaking  his  head 
amidst  a Babel-tower  of  gaudy  worsted  tassels  and  brass  bells — 
the  deeply  laden  wagon,  creeping  slowly  along — are  all  in  keep- 
ing with  a scene,  where  the  very  mist  that  rises  from  the  valley 
seems  indolent  and  lazy,  and  unwilling  to  impart  the  rich  per- 
fume of  verdure  with  which  it  is  loaded.  Every  land  has  its 
own  peculiar  character  of  beauty.  The  glaciered  mountain, 
the  Alpine  peak,  the  dashing  cataracts  of  Switzerland  and  the 
Tyrol,  are  not  finer  in  their  way  than  the  long  flat  moorlands  of 
a Flemish  landscape,  with  its  clump  of  stunted  willows  cluster- 
ing over  some  limpid  brook,  in  which  the  oxen  are  standing  for 
shelter  from  the  noon-day  heat,  while,  lower  down,  some  rude 
water-wheel  is  mingling  its  sounds  with  the  summer  bees  and 
the  merry  voices  of  the  miller  and  his  companions.  So  strayed 
my  thoughts  as  the  German  shook  me  by  the  arm,  and  asked  if 
“ I were  not  ready  for  my  breakfast  ? ” Luckily  to  this  ques- 
tion there  is  rarely  but  one  answer.  Who  is  not  ready  for  his 
breakfast  when  on  the  road  ? How  delightful,  if  on  the  Continent, 
to  escape  from  the  narrow  limits  of  the  dungeon-like  diligence, 
where  you  sit  with  your  knees  next  your  collar-bone,  fainting 
with  heat  and  suffocated  by  dust,  and  finding  yourself  suddenly 
beside  the  tempting  plats  of  a little  French  dejeuner , with  its 
cutlets,  its  fried  fish,  its  poulet,  its  salad,  and  its  little  entree  of 
fruit,  tempered  with  a not  despicable  bottle  of  Beaune.  If  in 
England,  the  exchange  is  nearly  as  grateful ; for  though  our 
travelling  be  better,  and  our  position  less  irksome,  still  it  is  no 
small  alternative  from  the  stage-coach  to  the  inn  parlor,  redo- 
lent of  aromatic  black  tea,  eggs,  and  hot  toast,  with  an  hospit- 
able sideboard  of  lordly  sirloins,  and  York  hams  that  would 
make  a Jew’s  mouth  water.  While,  in  America,  the  change  is 
greatest  of  all,  as  any  one  can  vouch  for  who  has  been  suddenly 
emancipated  from  the  stove-heat  of  a “ nine-inside  ” leathern 
“ conveniency,”  bumping  ten  miles  an  hour  over  a corduroy 
road,  the  company  smoking,  if  not  worse ; to  the  ample  display 
of  luxurious  viands  displayed  upon  the  breakfast-table,  where, 
what  with  buffalo  steaks,  pumpkin  pie,  “ chicken  fixings,”  and 
other  aristocratically  called  temptations,  he  must  be  indeed  fas- 
tidious who  cannot  employ  his  half-hour.  Pity  it  is,  when  there 
is  so  much  good  to  eat,  that  people  will  not  partake  of  it  like 
civilized  beings,  and  with  that  air  of  cheerful  thankfulness  that 
all  other  nations  more  or  less  express  when  enjoying  the  earth’s 
bounties.  But  true  it  is,  that  there  is  a spirit  of  discontent  in 
the  Yankee,  that  seems  to  accept  of  benefits  with  a tone  of  dis- 


THE  JOURNEY. 


345 


satisfaction,  if  not  distrust.  I once  made  this  remark  to  an  ex- 
cellent friend  of  mine,  now  no  more,  who,  however,  would  not 
permit  of  my  attributing  this  feature  to  the  Americans  exclu- 
sively, adding,  “ Where  have  you  more  of  this  than  in  Ireland  ? 
and  surely  you  would  not  call  the  Irish  ungrateful  ? ” He  illus- 
trated his  first  remark  by  the  following  short  anecdote : — 

The  rector  of  the  parish  my  friend  lived  in  was  a man  who 
added  to  the  income  he  derived  from  his  living  a very  handsome 
private  fortune,  which  he  devoted  entirely  to  the  benefit  of  the 
poor  around  him.  Among  the  objects  of  his  bounty  one  old 
woman — a childless  widow — was  remarkably  distinguished. 
Whether  commiserating  her  utter  helplessness  or  her  complete 
isolation,  he  went  farther  to  relieve  her  than  to  many,  if  not 
all,  the  other  poor.  She  frequently  was  in  the  habit  of  plead- 
ing her  poverty  as  a reason  for  not  appearing  in  church  among 
her  neighbors ; and  he  gladly  seized  an  opportunity  of  so  im- 
proving her  condition,  that,  on  this  score,  at  least,  no  impedi- 
ment existed.  When  all  his  little  plans  for  her  comfort  had 
been  carried  into  execution,  he  took  the  opportunity  one  day  of 
dropping  in,  as  if  accidentally,  to  speak  to  her.  By  degrees  he 
led  the  subject  to  her  changed  condition  in  life — the  alteration 
from  a cold,  damp,  smoky  hovel,  to  a warm,  clean,  slated  house 
— the  cheerful  garden  before  the  door  that  replaced  the  mud- 
heap  and  the  duck-pool — and  all  the  other  happy  changes  which 
a few  weeks  had  effected.  And  he  then  asked,  "did  she  not  feel 
grateful  to  a bountiful  Providence  that  had  showered  down  so 
many  blessings  upon  her  head  ? 

“ Ah,  troth,  it’s  thrue  for  yer  honor,  I am  grateful,”  she  re- 
plied, in  a whining,  discordant  tone,  which  astonished  the  worthy 
parson. 

“ Of  course  you  are,  my  good  woman,  of  course  you  are  ; but 
I mean  to  say,  doq’t  you  feel  that  every  moment  you  live  is  too 
short  to  express  your  thankfulness  to  this  kind  Providence  for 
what  He  has  done  ? ” 

“Ah,  darlin’,  it’s  all  thrue;  He’s  very  good,  He’s  mighty 
kind,  so  He  is.” 

“Why,  then,  not  acknowledge  it  in  a different  manner  ?”  said 
the  parson,  with  some  heat — “has  He  not  housed  you,  and  fed 
you,  and  clothed  you  ? ” 

“ Yes,  alanah,  He  done  it  all.” 

“ Well,  where  is  your  gratitude  for  all  those  mercies  ? ” 

“Ah,  sure,  if  He  did,”  said  the  old  crone,  roused  at  length  by 
the  importunity  of  the  questioner — “ sure,  if  He  did,  doesn't 
He  take  it  out  o'  me  in  the  corns  2 ” 


346 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

A REMINISCENCE  OF  THE  EAST. 

The  breakfast-table  assembled  around  it  the  three  generations 
of  men  who  issued  from  the  three  subdivisions  of  the  diligence, 
and  presented  that  motley  and  mixed  assemblage  of  ranks, 
ages,  and  countries,  which  forms  so  very  amusing  a part  of  a 
traveller’s  experience. 

First  came  the  haute  aristocratie  of  the  coupd,  then  the  middle 
class  of  the  interieur , and  lastly,  the  tier s-J tat  of  the  rotonde , 
with  its  melange  of  Jew  money-lenders,  under-officers  and  their 
wives,  a Norman  nurse  with  a high  cap  and  a red  jupe ; while, 
to  close  the  procession,  a German  student  descended  from  the 
roof,  with  a beard,  a blouse,  and  a meerschaum.  Of  such  ma- 
terials was  our  party  made  up  ; and  yet,  differing  in  all  our  ob- 
jects and  interests,  we  speedily  amalgamated  into  a very  social 
state  of  intimacy,  and  chatted  away  over  our  breakfast  with 
much  good  humor  and  gayety,  each  person  of  the  number  seem- 
ing pleased  at  the  momentary  opportunity  of  finding  a new  list- 
ener, save  my  tall  companion  of  the  coupe.  He  preserved  a 
dogged  silence,  unbroken  by  even  a chance  expression  to  the 
waiter,  who  observed  his  wants  and  supplied  them  by  a species 
of  quick  instinct  evidently  acquired  by  practice.  As  I could 
not  help  feeling  somewhat  interested  about  the  hermit-like  at- 
tachment he  evinced  for  solitude,  I watched  him  narrowly  for 
some  time,  and  at  length  as  the  remade  its  appearance  before 
him,  after  he  had  helped  himself  and  tasted  it,  he  caught  my 
eye  fixed  upon  him,  and  looking  at  me  intently  for  a few  sec- 
onds, he  seemed  to  be  satisfied  in  some  passing  doubt  he 
labored  under,  as  he  said,  with  a most  peculiar  shake  of  the 
head — “ No  mangez , no  mangez  cela .” 

“ Ah,”  said  I,  detecting  in  my  friend’s  French  his  English 
origin,  “ you  are  an  Englishman,  I find.” 

“ The  devil  a doubt  of  it,  darling,”  said  he,  half  testily.  • 

“ An  Irishman,  too — still  better,”  said  I. 

“ Why,  then,  isn’t  it  strange  that  my  French  always  shows 
me  to  be  English,  and  my  English  proves  me  Irish  ? It’s  lucky 
for  me  there’s  no  going  farther  anyhow.” 

Delighted  to  have  thus  fallen  upon  a “ character,”  as  the  Irish- 
man evidently  appeared,  I moved  my  chair  towards  his  ; finding, 
however,  he  was  not  half  pleased  at  the  manner  in  which  my 
acquaintance  had  been  made  with  him,  and  knowing  his  coun- 
try’s susceptibility  of  being  taken  by  a story,  I resolved  to  make 


A REMINISCENCE  OF  THE  EAST.  347 

my  advances  by  narrating  a circumstance  which  had  once  be- 
fallen me  in  my  early  life. 

Our  countrymen,  English  and  Irish,  travel  so  much  nowa- 
days, that  one  ought  never  to  feel  surprised  at  finding  them  any- 
where. The  instance  I am  about  to  relate  will  verify  to  a cer- 
tain extent  the  fact,  by  showing  that  no  situation  is  too  odd  or 
too  unlikely  to  be  within  the  verge  of  calculation. 

When  the  10th  Foot,  to  which  I then  belonged,  were  at  Corfu, 
I obtained,  with  three  other  officers,  a short  leave  of  absence,  to 
make  a hurried  tour  of  the  Morea,  and  take  a passing  glance  at 
Constantinople — in  those  days  much  less  frequently  visited  by 
travellers  than  at  present. 

After  rambling  pleasantly  about  for  some  weeks,  we  were 
about  to  return,  when  we  determined  that  before  sailing  we 
should  accept  an  invitation  some  officers  of  the  Blazer  frigate, 
then  stationed  here,  had  given  us,  to  pass  a day  at  Pera,  and 
pic-nic  on  the  mountain. 

One  fine  bright  morning  was  therefore  selected — and  a most 
appetizing  little  dinner  being  carefully  packed  up — and  we  set 
out,  a party  of  fourteen,  upon  our  excursion. 

The  weather  was  glorious,  and  the  scene  far  finer  than  any 
of  us  had  anticipated — the  view  from  the  mountain  extending 
over  the  entire  city,  gorgeous  in  the  rich  coloring  of  its  domes 
and  minarets ; while,  at  one  side,  the  Golden  Horn  was  visible, 
crowded  with  ships  of  every  nation,  and  at  the  other,  a glimpse 
might  be  had  of  the  Sea  of  Marmora,  blue  and  tranquil  as  it  lay 
beneath.  The  broad  bosom  of  the  Bosphorus  was  sheeted  out 
like  a map  before  us — peaceful,  yet  bustling  with  life  and  ani- 
mation. Here  lay  the  union-jack  of  old  England,  floating  be- 
side the  lilies  of  France — we  speak  of  times  when  lilies  were  and 
barricades  were  not — the  tall  and  taper  spars  of  a Yankee  frigate 
towering  above  the  low  timbers  and  heavy  hull  of  a Dutch 
schooner — the  gilded  poop  and  carved  galleries  of  a Turkish 
three-decker,  anchored  beside  the  raking  mast  and  curved  deck 
of  a suspicious  looking  craft,  whose  red-capped  dark-visaged 
crew  needed  not  the  naked  creese  at  their  sides  to  bespeak  them 
Malays.  The  whole  was  redolent  of  life,  and  teeming  with  food 
for  one’s  fancy  to  conjure  from. 

While  we  were  debating  upon  the  choice  of  a spot  for  our 
luncheon,  which  should  command  the  chief  points  of  view  with- 
in our  reach,  one  of  the  party  came  to  inform  us  that  he  had 
just  discovered  the  very  thing  we  were  in  search  of.  It  was  a 
small  kiosk,  built  upon  a projecting  rock  that  looked  down  upon 
the  Bosphorus  and  the  city,  and  had  evidently,  from  the  ex- 
tended views  it  presented,  been  seized  as  the  spot  to  build 


348 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


upon.  The  building  itself  was  a small  octagon,  open  on  every 
side,  and  presenting  a series  of  prospects,  land  and  seaward,  of 
the  most  varied  and  magnificent  kind. 

Seeing  no  one  near,  nor  any  trace  of  habitation,  we  resolved 
to  avail  ourselves  of  the  good  taste  of  the  founder  ; and  spread- 
ing out  the  contents  of  our  hampers,  proceeded  to  discuss  a 
most  excellent  cold  dinner.  When  the  good  things  had  dis- 
appeared, and  the  wine  began  to  circulate,  one  of  the  party  ob- 
served that  we  should  not  think  of  enjoying  ourselves  before  we 
had  filled  a bumper  to  the  brim,  to  the  health  Of  our  good  king, 
whose  birthday  it  chanced  to  be.  Our  homeward  thoughts  and 
loyalty  uniting,  we  filled  our  glasses,  and  gave  so  hearty  a “hip, 
hip,  hurrah,”  to  our  toast,  that  I doubt  if  the  echoes  of  those 
old  rocks  ever  heard  the  equal  of  it. 

Scarcely  was  the  last  cheer  dying  away  in  the  distance,  when 
the  door  of  the  kiosk  opened,  and  a negro  dressed  in  white  mus- 
lin appeared,  his  arms  and  ankles  bearing  those  huge  rings  of 
massive  gold  which  only  persons  of  rank  distinguish  their  serv- 
ants by. 

After  a most  profound  obeisance  to  the  party,  he  explained, 
in  very  tolerable  French,  that  his  master  the  Effendi,  Ben 
Mustapha  A1  Halak,  at  whose  charge  (in  house  rent)  we  were 
then  feasting,  sent  us  greeting,  and  begged  that  if  not  considered 
as  contrary  to  our  usage,  etc.,  we  should  permit  him  and  his 
suite  to  approach  the  kiosk  and  observe  us  at  our  meal. 

Independent  of  his  politeness  in  the  mode  of  conveying  the 
request,  as  he  would  prove  fully  as  entertaining  a sight  to  us  as 
we  could  possibly  be  to  him,  we  immediately  expressed  our  great 
willingness  to  receive  his  visit,  coupled  with  a half-hint  that  per- 
haps he  might  honor  us  by  joining  the  party. 

After  a half-hour’s  delay,  the  door  was  once  more  thrown  open, 
and  a venerable  old  Turk  entered  : he  salaamed  three  times 
most  reverently,  and  motioned  to  us  to  be  seated,  declining,  at 
the  same  time,  by  a gentle  gesture  of  his  hand,  our  invitation. 
He  was  followed  by  a train  of  six  persons,  all  splendidly  attired, 
and  attesting,  by  their  costume  and  manner,  the  rank  and  im- 
portance of  their  chief.  Conceiving  that  his  visit  had  but  one 
object — to  observe  our  convivial  customs — we  immediately  re- 
seated ourselves,  and  filled  our  glasses. 

As  one  after  another  the  officers  of  the  Effendi’s  household 
passed  round  the  apartments,  we  offered  them  a goblet  of  cham- 
pagne, which  they  severally  declined  with  a polite  but  solemn 
smile — all  except  one,  a large,  savage-looking  Turk,  with  a most 
ferocious  scowl,  and  the  largest  black  beard  I ever  beheld.  He 
did  not  content  himself  with  a mute  refusal  of  our  offer,  but 


A HAY  IN  THE  PHCENIX. 


349 


Stopping  suddenly,  he  raised  up  his  hands  above  his  head,  and 
muttered  some  words  in  Turkish,  which  one  of  the  party  in- 
formed us  was  a very  satisfactory  recommendation  of  the  whole 
company  to  Satan  for  their  heretic  abomination. 

The  procession  moved  slowly  round  the  room,  and  when  it 
reached  the  door  again  retired,  each  member  of  it  salaaming 
three  times  as  he  had  done  on  entering.  Scarcely  had  they  gone, 
when  we  burst  into  a loud  fit  of  laughter  at  the  savage-looking 
fellow  who  thought  proper  to  excommunicate  us,  and  were  about 
to  discuss  his  more  than  common  appearance  of  disgust  at  our 
proceedings,  when  again  the  door  opened,  and  a turbaned  head 
peeped  in,  but  so  altered  were  the  features,  that  although  seen 
but  the  moment  before,  we  could  hardly  believe  them  the  same. 
The  dark  complexion — the  long  and  bushy  beard  were  there — 
but  instead  of  the  sleepy  and  solemn  character  of  the  Oriental, 
with  heavy  eye  and  closed  lip,  there  was  a droll  half  devilry  in 
thejook,  and  partly  open  mouth,  that  made  a most  laughable 
contrast  with  the  head-dress.  He  looked  stealthily  around  him 
for  an  instant,  as  if  to  see  that  all  was  right,  and  then,  with  an 
accent  and  expression  I shall  never  forget,  said,  “ Fll  taste  your 
wine , gentlemen , av  it  be  pleasing  to  yeT 


CHAPTER  XLVL 

A DAY  IN  THE  PHCENIX. 

When  we  were  once  more  in  the  coupe  of  the  diligence,  I di- 
rected my  entire  attention  towards  my  Irish  acquaintance,  as 
well  because  of  his  apparent  singularity,  as  to  avoid  the  little 
German  in  the  opposite  corner. 

“ You  have  not  been  long  in  France,  then,  sir,”  said  I,  as  we 
resumed  our  conversation. 

“ Three  weeks,  and  it  seems  like  three  years  to  me — nothing 
to  eat — nothing  to  drink — and  nobody  to  speak  to.  But  I’ll  go 
back  soon — I only  came  abroad  for  a month.” 

“ You’ll  scarcely  see  much  of  the  Continent  in  so  short  a 
time.” 

44  Devil  a much  that  will  grieve  me — I didn’t  come  to  see  it.” 

44  Indeed  ! ” 

44  Nothing  of  the  kind  ; I only  came — to  be  away  from  home.” 

44  Oh  ! I perceive.” 

44  You’re  quite  out  there,”  said  my  companion,  misinterpreting 
my  meaning.  44  It  wasn’t  anything  of  that  kind.  I don’t  owe 


3$o  HARRY  LORRRQURR. 

sixpence.  I was  laughed  out  of  Ireland — that’s  all,  though  that 
same  is  bad  enough.” 

“ Laughed  out  of  it ! ” 

“Just  so — and  little  you  know  of  Ireland  if  that  surprises 
you.” 

After  acknowledging  that  such  an  event  was  perfectly  possi- 
ble, from  what  I myself  had  seen  of  that  country,  I obtained  the 
following  very  brief  account  of  my  companion’s  reasons  for  for- 
eign travel : — 

“ Well,  sir,”  began  he,  “ it  is  about  four  months  since  I brought 
up  to  Dublin  from  Galway  a little  chestnut  mare,  with  cropped 
ears  and  a short  tail,  square-jointed,  and  rather  low — just  what 
you’d  call  a smart  hack  for  going  to  cover  with — a lively  thing 
on  the  road  with  a light  weight.  Nobody  ever  suspected  that 
she  was  a clean-bred  thing — own  sister  to  Jenny,  that  won  the 
Corinthians,  and  ran  second  to  Giles  for  the  Riddlesworth — but 
so  she  was,  and  a better  bred  mare  never  leaped  the  pound  in 
Ballinasloe.  Well,  I brought  her  to  Dublin,  and  used  to  ride 
her  out  two  or  three  times  a week,  making  little  matches  some- 
times to  trot — and,  for  a thorough-bred,  she  was  a clipper  at  trot- 
ting— to  trot  a mile  or  so  on  the  grass — another  day  to  gallop 
the  length  of  the  Nine  Acres  opposite  the  Lodge — and  then 
sometimes  back  her  for  a ten-pound  note  to  jump  the  biggest 
furze-bush  that  could  be  found — all  of  which  she  could  do  with 
ease,  nobody  thinking,  all  the  while,  that  the  cock-tailed  pony 
was  by  Scroggins,  out  of  a 4 Lamplighter  mare.’  As  every  fellow 
that  was  beat  to-day  was  sure  to  come  back  to-morrow,  with  some- 
thing better,  either  of  his  own  or  a friend’s,  I had  matches 
booked  for  every  day  in  the  week — for  I always  made  my  little 
boy  that  rode  win  by  half  a neck,  or  a nostril,  and  so  we  kept 
on  day  after  day  pocketing  from  ten  to  thirty  pounds,  or  there- 
abouts. It  was  mighty  pleasant  while  it  lasted,  for  besides  win- 
ning the  money,  I had  my  own  fun  laughing  at  the  spoonies  that 
never  could  book  my  bets  fast  enough.  Young  infantry  officers 
and  the  junior  bar — they  were  for  the  most  part  mighty  nice  to 
look  at,  but  very  raw  about  racing.  How  long  I might  have 
gone  on  in  this  way  I cannot  say ; but  one  morning  I fell  in  with 
a fat,  elderly  gentleman,  in  shorts  and  gaiters,  mounted  on  a 
dun  cob  pony,  that  was  very  fidgety  and  hot-tempered,  and  ap- 
peared to  give  the  rider  a great  deal  of  uneasiness. 

“ 4 He’s  a spicy  hack  you’re  on,  sir,’  said  I,  4 and  has  a go  in 
him,  I’ll  be  bound.’ 

44  4 1 rayther  think  he  has,’  said  the  old  gentleman,  half  tes- 
tily. 

44  4 And  can  trot  a bit,  too.’ 


A DAY  IN  THE  PHCENIX . 


351 


“ 4 Twelve  Irish  miles  in  fifty  minutes,  with  my  weight.’  Here 
he  looked  clown  at  a paunch  like  a sugar  hogshead. 

“ 4 Maybe  he’s  not  bad  across  a country,’  said  I,  rather  to 
humor  the  old  fellow,  who,  I saw,  was  proud  of  his  pony. 

44  4 I’d  like  to  see  his  match,  that’s  all.’  Here  he  gave  a rather 
contemptuous  glance  at  my  hack. 

44  Well,  one  word  led  to  another,  and  it  ended  at  last  in  our 
booking  a match,  with  which  one  party  was  no  less  pleased  than 
the  other.  It  was  this  : each  was  to  ride  his  own  horse,  starting 
from  the  school  in  the  Park,  round  the  Fifteen  Acres,  outside 
the  Monument,  and  back  to  the  start — just  one  heat,  about  a 
mile  $tid  a half — the  ground  good,  and  only  soft  enough.  In 
consideration,  however,  of  his  greater  weight,  I was  to  give  odds 
in  the  start ; and  as  we  could  not  well  agree  on  how  much,  it 
was  at  length  decided  that  he  was  to  get  away  first,  and  I to  fol- 
low as  fast  as  I could,  after  drinking  a pewter  quart  full  of  Guin- 
ness’s double  stout — droll  odds,  you’ll  say,  but  it  was  the  old  fel- 
low’s own  thought,  and  as  the  match  was  a soft  one,  I let  him 
have  his  way. 

44  The  next  morning  the  Phoenix  was  crowded  as  if  for  a 
review.  There  were  all  the  Dublin  notorieties,  swarming  in 
barouches,  and  tilburies,  and  outside  jaunting-cars — smart  clerks 
in  the  Post-office,  mounted  upon  kicking  devils  from  Dycer’s 
and  Lalouette’s  stables — attorneys’  wives  and  daughters  from 
York  Street,  and  a stray  doctor  or  so  on  a hack  that  looked  as 
if  it  had  been  lectured  on  for  the  six  winter  months  at  the 
College  of  Surgeons.  My  antagonist  was  half  an  hour  late, 
which  time  I occupied  in  booking  bets  on  every  side  of  me — 
offering  odds  of  ten,  fifteen,  and  at  last,  to  tempt  the  people, 
twenty-five  to  one  against  the  dun.  At  last  the  fat  gentleman 
came  up  on  a jaunting-car,  followed  by  a groom  leading  the  cob. 
I wish  you  heard  the  cheer  that  greeted  him  on  his  arrival,  for 
it  appeared  he  was  a well-known  character  in  town,  and  much 
in  favor  with  the  mob.  When  he  got  off  the  car,  he  bundled 
into  a tent,  followed  by  a few  of  his  friends,  where  they  remained 
for  about  five  minutes,  at  the  end  of  which  he  came  out  in  full 
racing  costume — blue  and  yellow-striped  jacket,  blue  cap  and 
leathers — looking  as  funny  a figure  as  ever  you  set  eyes  upon.  I 
now  thought  it  time  to  throw  off  my  white  surtout,  and  show  out 
in  pink  and  orange,  the  colors  I had  been  winning  in  for  two 
months  past.  While  some  of  the  party  were  sent  on  to  station 
themselves  at  different  places  round  the  Fifteen  Acres,  to  mark 
out  the  course,  my  fat  friend  was  assisted  into  his  saddle,  and 
gave  a short  preliminary  gallop  of  a hundred  yards  or  so,  that 
set  us  all  a-laughing.  The  odds  were  now  fifty  to  one  in  my 


352 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


favor,  and  I gave  them  wherever  I could  find  takers.  1 With 
you,  sir,  if  you  please,  in  pounds,  and  the  gentleman  in  the  red 
whiskers,  too,  if  he  likes ; very  well,  in  half-sovereigns,  if  you 
prefer  it.’  So  I went  on,  betting  on  every  side,  till  the  bell  rang 
to  mount.  As  I knew  I had  plenty  of  time  to  spare,  I took  little 
notice,  and  merely  giving  a look  to  my  girths,  I continued 
leisurely  booking  my  bets.  At  last  the  time  came,  and  at  the 
word  4 Away ! ’ off  went  the  fat  gentleman  on  the  dun,  at  a 
spluttering  gallop,  that  flung  the  mud  on  every  side  of  us,  and 
once  more  threw  us. all  a-laughing.  I waited  patiently  till  he 
got  near  the  upper  end  of  the  park,  taking  bets  every  minute ; 
now  that  he  was  away,  every  one  offered  to  wager.  At  last, 
when  I had  let  him  get  nearly  half  round,  and  found  no  more 
money  could  be  had,  I called  out  to  his  friends  for  the  porter, 
and,  throwing  myself  into  the  saddle,  gathered  up  the  reins  in 
my  hand.  The  crowd  fell  back  on  each  side,  while  from  the 
tent  I have  already  mentioned  out  came  a thin  fellow  with  one 
eye,  with  a pewter  quart  in  his  hand  : he  lifted  it  up  towards  me, 
and  I took  it ; but  what  was  my  fright  to  find  that  the  porter 
was  boiling,  and  the  vessel  so  hot  I could  barely  hold  it.  I 
endeavored  to  drink,  however : the  first  mouthful  took  all  the 
skin  off  my  lips  and  tongue,  the  second  half  choked,  and  the 
third  nearly  threw  me  into  an  apoplectic  fit,  the  mob  cheering  all 
the  time  like  devils.  Meantime,  the  old  fellow  had  reached  the 
furze,  and  was  going  along  like  fun.  Again  I tried  the  porter, 
and  a fit  of  coughing  came  on  which  lasted  five  minutes.  The 
pewter  was  so  hot  that  the  edge  of  the  quart  took  away  a piece 
of  my  mouth  at  every  effort.  I ventured  once  more,  and  with 
the  desperation  of  a madman  I threw  down  the  hot  liquid  to 
its  last  drop.  My  head  reeled,  my  eyes  glared,  and  my  brain 
was  on  fire.  I thought  I beheld  fifty  fat  gentlemen,  riding  on 
every  side  of  me,  and  all  the  sky  raining  jackets,  in  blue  and 
yellow.  Half  mechanically  I took  the  reins,  and  put  spurs  to 
my  horse  ; but  before  I got  well  away,  a loud  cheer  from  the 
crowd  assailed  me.  I turned,  and  saw  the  dun  coming  in  at  a 
floundering  gallop,  covered  with  foam,  and  so  dead  blown  that 
neither  himself  nor  the  rider  could  have  got  twenty  yards 
farther.  The  race  was,  however,  won.  My  odds  were  lost  to 
every  man  on  the  field,  and,  worse  than  all,  I was  so  laughed  at, 
that  I could  not  venture  out  in  the  streets,  without  hearing 
allusions  to  my  misfortune  ; for  a certain  friend  of  mine,  one  Tom 
O’Flaherty ” 

44  Tom  of  the  nth  Light  Dragoons  ? ” 

44  The  same  ; you  know  Tom,  then  ? Maybe  you  have  heard 
him  mention  me — Maurice  ' T alone  ? ” 


AN  ADVENTURE  IN  CANADA. 


353 


“ Not  Mr.  Malone,  of  Fort  Peak  ? ” 

“ Bad  luck  to  him.  I am  as  well  known  in  connection  with 
Fort  Peak,  as  the  Duke  is  with  Waterloo.  There  is  not  a part 
of  the  globe  where  he  has  not  told  that  confounded  story.” 

As  my  readers  may  not  possibly  be  all  numbered  in  Mr. 
O’Flaherty’s  acquaintance,  I shall  venture  to  give  the  anecdote 
which  Mr.  Malone  accounted  to  be  so  widely  circulated. 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

AN  ADVENTURE  IN  CANADA. 

Towards  the  close  of  the  last  war  with  America,  a small  de- 
tachment of  military  occupied  the  little  block-house  of  Fort  Peak, 
which,  about  eight  miles  from  the  Falls  of  Niagara,  formed  the 
last  outpost  on  the  frontier.  The  Fort,  in  itself  inconsiderable, 
was  only  of  importance  as  commanding  a part  of  the  river  where 
it  was  practicable  to  ford,  and  where  the  easy  ascent  of  the 
bank  offered  a safe  situation  for  the  enemy  to  cross  over,  when- 
ever they  felt  disposed  to  carry  the  war  into  our  territory. 

There  having  been,  however,  no  threat  of  invasion  in  this 
quarter,  and  the  natural  strength  of  the  position  being  consider- 
able, a mere  handful  of  men,  with  two  subaltern  officers,  were 
allotted  for  this  duty — such  being  conceived  ample  to  maintain 
it  till  the  arrival  of  succor  from  headquarters,  then  at  Little 
York,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  lake.  The  officers  of  this 
party  were  our  old  acquaintance  Tom  O’Flaherty,  and  our 
newly-made  one  Maurice  Malone. 

Whatever  may  be  the  merits  of  commanding  officers,  one 
virtue  they  certainly  can  lay  small  claim  to,  viz.,  any  insight  into 
character,  or  at  least  any  regard  for  the  knowledge.-  Seldom 
are  two  men  sent  off  on  detachment  duty  to  some  remote 
quarter,  to  associate  daily  and  hourly  for  months  together,  that 
they  are  not,  by  some  happy  chance,  the  very  people  who  never, 
as  the  phrase  is,  “ took  to  each  other  ” in  their  lives.  The  gray- 
headed, weather-beaten,  disappointed  “ Peninsular  ” is  coupled 
with  the  essenced  and  dandified  Adonis  of  the  corps ; the  man 
of  literary  tastes  and  cultivated  pursuits  with  the  empty-headed, 
ill-formed  youth,  fresh  from  Harrow  or  Westminster.  This  case 
offered  no  exception  to  the  rule  ; for  though  there  were  few  men 
possessed  of  more  assimilating  powers  than  O’Flaherty,  yet  cer- 
tainly his  companion  did  put  the  faculty  to  the  test,  for  anything 
more  unlike  him  there  never  existed.  Tom,  all  good  humor 
23 


354 


HARRY  LORREQUER . 


and  high  spirits — making  the  best  of  everything — never  non- 
plussed— never  taken  aback — perfectly  at  home,  whether  flirt- 
ing with  a Lady  Charlotte  in  her  drawing-room,  or  crossing  a 
grouse  mountain  in  the  Highlands — sufficiently  well  read  to 
talk  on  any  ordinary  topic — and  always  ready-witted  enough  to 
seem  more  so.  A thorough  sportsman,  whether  showing  forth 
in  his  “ pink  ” at  Melton,  whipping  a trout-stream  in  Wales,  or 
filling  a country-house  with  black  cock  and  moor-fowl ; an  un- 
exceptionable judge  of  all  the  good  things  in  life,  from  a pretty 
ankle  to  a well-hung  tilbury — from  the  odds  at  hazard  to  the 
“Comet  vintage.”  Such,  in  brief,  was  Tom.  Now  his  co7ifrere 
was  none  of  these  ; he  had  been  drafted  from  the  Galway  mil- 
itia to  the  line,  for  some  election  services  rendered  by  his  family 
to  the  government  candidate  ; was  of  a saturnine  and  discontent- 
ed habit,  always  miserable  about  some  trifle  or  other,  and  never 
at  rest  till  he  had  drowned  his  sorrows  in  Jamaica  rum,  which, 
since  the  regiment  was  abroad,  he  had  copiously  used  as  a sub- 
stitute for  whiskey.  To  such  an  extent  had  this  passion  gained 
upon  him,  that  a corporal’s  guard  was  always  in  attendance 
whenever  he  dined  out,  to  convey  him  home  to  the  barracks. 

The  wearisome  monotony  of  a close  garrison,  with  so  un- 
genial  a companion,  would  have  damped  any  man’s  spirits  but 
O’Flaherty’s.  He,  however,  upon  this,  as  other  occasions  in 
life,  rallied  himself  to  make  the  best  of  it ; and,  by  short  ex- 
cursions within  certain  prescribed  limits  along  the  river  side, 
contrived  to  shoot  and  fish  enough  to  get  through  the  day,  and 
improve  the  meagre  fare  of  his  mess-table.  Malone  never 
appeared  before  dinner — his  late  sittings  at  night  requiring  all 
the  following  day  to  recruit  him  from  a new  attack  upon  the  rum 
bottle. 

Now,  although  his  seeing  so  little  of  his  brother  officer  was 
anything  but  unpleasant  to  O’Flaherty,  yet  the  ennui  of  such  a 
life  was  gradually  wearing  him,  and  all  his  wits  were  put  in  req- 
uisition to  furnish  occupation  for  his  time.  Never  a day  passed 
without  his  praying  ardently  for  an  attack  from  the  enemy  ; any 
alternative,  any  reverse,  had  been  a blessing  compared  with  his 
present  life.  No  such  spirit,  however,  seemed  to  animate  the 
Yankee  troops  ; not  a soldier  was  to  be  seen  for  miles  around, 
and  every  straggler  that  passed  the  Fort  concurred  in  saying 
that  the  Americans  were  not  within  four  days’  march  of  the 
frontier. 

Weeks  passed  over,  and  the  same  state  of  things  remaining 
unchanged,  O’Flaherty  gradually  relaxed  some  of  his  strictness 
as  to  duty  ; small  foraging  parties  of  three  and  four  being  daily 
permitted  to  leave  the  Fort  for  a few  hours,  to  which  they  usur 


AN  ADVENTURE  IN  CANADA . 355 

ally  returned  laden  with  wild  turkeys  and  fish — both  being  found 
in  great  abundance  near  them. 

Such  was  the  life  of  the  little  garrison  for  two  or  three  long 
summer  months — each  day  so  resembling  its  fellow,  that  no  dif- 
ference could  be  found. 

As  to  how  the  war  was  faring,  or  what  the  aspect  of  affairs 
might  be,  they  absolutely  knew  nothing.  Newspapers  never 
reached  them ; and  whether  from  having  so  much  occupation  at 
head-quarters,  or  that  the  difficulty  of  sending  letters  prevented, 
their  friends  never  wrote  a line;  and  thus  they  jogged  on  a very 
vegetable  existence,  till  thought  at  last  was  stagnating  in  their 
brains,  and  O’Flaherty  half  envied  his  companion’s  resource  in 
the  spirit  flask. 

Such  was  the  state  of  affairs  at  the  Fort,  when  one  evening 
O’Flaherty  appeared  to  pace  the  little  rampart  that  looked  tow- 
ards Lake  Ontario,  with  an  appearance  of  anxiety  and  impatience 
strangely  at  variance  with  his  daily  phlegmatic  look.  It  seemed 
that  the  corporal’s  party  he  had  despatched  that  morning  to 
forage  near  the  “Falls”  had  not  returned,  and  already  were 
four  hours  later  than  their  time  away. 

Every  imaginable  mode  of  accounting  for  their  absence  sug- 
gested itself  to  his  mind.  Sometimes  he  feared  that  they  had 
been  attacked  by  the  Indian  hunters,  who  were  far  from  favor- 
ably disposed  towards  their  poaching  neighbors.  Then,  again, 
it  might  be  merely  that  they  had  missed  their  track  in  the  for- 
est ; or  could  it  be  that  they  had  ventured  to  reach  Goat  Island 
in  a canoe,  and  had  been  carried  down  the  rapids.  Such  were 
the  torturing  doubts  that  passed,  as  some  shrill  squirrel  or  hoarse 
night  owl  pierced  the  air  with  a cry,  and  then  all  was  silent 
again.  While  thus  the  hours  went  slowly  by,  his  attention  was 
attracted  by  a bright  light  in  the  sky.  It  appeared  as  if  part  of 
the  heavens  were  reflecting  some  strong  glare  from  beneath,  for, 
as  he  locked,  the  light,  at  first  pale  and  colorless,  gradually 
deepened  into  a rich  mellow  hue,  and  at  length,  through  the 
murky  blackness  of  the  night,  a strong  clear  current  of  flame 
rose  steadily  upwards  from  the  earth,  and  pointed  towards  the 
sky.  From  the  direction,  it  must  have  been'  either  at  the  Falls 
or  immediately  near  them ; and  now  the  horrible  conviction 
flashed  upon  his  mind  that  the  party  had  been  waylaid  by  the 
Indians,  who  were,  as  is  their  custom,  making  a war-feast  over 
their  victims. 

Not  an  instant  was  to  be  lost.  The  little  garrison  beat  to 
arms ; and,  as  the  men  fell  in,  O’Flaherty  cast  his  eyes  around, 
while  he  selected  a few  brave  fellows  to  accompany  him. 
Scarcely  had  the  men  fallen  out  from  the  ranks,  when  the  sen- 


35^ 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


tinel  at  the  gate  was  challenged  by  a well-known  voice,  and  in  a 
moment  more  the  corporal  of  the  foraging  party  was  among 
them.  Fatigue  and  exhaustion  had  so  overcome  him,  that  for 
some  minutes  he  was  speechless.  At  length  he  recovered  suf- 
ficiently to  give  the  following  brief  account  : — 

The  little  party  having  obtained  their  supply  of  venison  above 
Queenston,  were  returning  to  the  Fort,  when  they  suddenly 
came  upon  a track  of  feet,  and  little  experience  in  forest  life 
soon  proved  that  some  new  arrivals  had  reached  the  hunting- 
grounds,  for  on  examining  them  closely,  they  proved  neither  to 
be  Indian  tracks,  nor  yet  those  made  by  the  shoes  of  the  Fort 
party.  Proceeding  with  caution  to  track  them  backwards  for 
three  or  four  miles,  they  reached  the  bank  of  the  Niagara  river, 
above  the  whirlpools,  where  the  crossing  is  most  easily  effected 
from  the  American  side.  The  mystery  was  at  once  explained  : 
it  was  a surprise  party  of  the  Yankees,  sent  to  attack  Fort  Peak  ; 
and  now  the  only  thing  to  be  done  was  to  hasten  back 
immediately  to  their  friends,  and  prepare  for  their  recep- 
tion. 

With  this  intent  they  took  the  river  path  as  the  shortest, 
but  had  not  proceeded  far  when  their  fears  were  confirmed ; 
for  in  a little  embayment  of  the  bank  they  pe^eived  a party 
of  twenty  blue  coats,  who,  with  their  arms  piled,  were  lying 
around  as  if  waiting  for  the  hour  of  attack.  The  sight  of  this 
party  added  greatly  to  their  alarm,  for  they  now  perceived  that 
the  Americans  had  divided  their  force — the  foot-tracks  first 
seen  being  evidently  those  of  another  division.  As  the  corporal 
and  his  few  men  continued,  from  the  low  and  thick  brushwood, 
to  make  their  reconnaissance  of  the  enemy,  they  observed  with 
delight  that  they  were  not  regulars,  but  a militia  force.  With 
this  one  animating  thought,  they  again,  with  noiseless  step,  re- 
gained the  forest,  and  proceeded  upon  their  way.  Scarcely, 
however,  had  they  marched  a mile,  when  the  sound  of  voices 
and  loud  laughter  apprised  them  that  another  party  was  near, 
which,  as  well  as  they  could  observe  in  the  increasing  gloom, 
was  still  larger  than  the  former.  They  were  now  obliged  to 
make  a considerable  circuit,  and  advance  still  deeper  into  the 
forest — their  anxiety  hourly  increasing,  lest  the  enemy  should 
reach  the  Fort  before  themselves.  In  this  dilemma  it  was  re- 
solved that  the  party  should  separate — the  corporal  determining 
to  proceed  alone  by  the  river  bank,  wjiile  the  others,  by  a di- 
tour of  some  miles,  should  endeavor  to  learn  the  force  of  the 
Yankees,  and,  as  far  as  they  could,  their  mode  of  attack.  From 
that  instant  the  corporal  knew  no  more  ; for,  after  two  hours’ 
weary  exertion,  he  reached  the  Fort,  which,  had  it  been  but 


AN  ADVENTURE  IN  CANADA. 


357 


another  mile  distant,  his  strength  had  not  held  out  for  him  to 
attain. 

However  gladly  poor  O’Flaherty  might  have  hailed  such  in- 
formation under  other  circumstances,  now  it  came  like  a 
thunderbolt  upon  him.  Six  of  his  small  force  were  away,  per- 
haps ere  this  made  prisoners  by  the  enemy;  the  Yankees,  as 
well  as  he  could  judge,  were  a numerous  party ; and  he  himself 
totally  without  a single  adviser — for  Malone  had  dined,  and 
was,  therefore,  by  this  time  in  that  pleasing  state  of  indifference, 
in  which  he  could  only  recognize  an  enemy  in  the  man  that  did 
not  send  round  the  decanter. 

In  the  half-indulged  hope  that  his  state  might  permit  some 
faint  exercise  of  the  reasoning  faculty,  O’Flaherty  walked  tow- 
ards the  small  den  they  had  designated  as  the  mess-room,  in 
search  of  his  brother-officer. 

As  he  entered  the  apartment,  little  disposed  as  he  felt  to 
mirth  at  such  a moment,  the  tableau  before  him  was  too  ridicu- 
lous not  to  laugh  at.  At  one  side  of  the  fireplace  sat  Malone, 
his  face  florid  with  drinking,  and  his  eyeballs  projecting.  Upon 
his  head  was  a small  Indian  skull-cap,  with  two  peacock’s  feath- 
ers, and  a piece  of  scarlet  cloth  which  hung  down  behind.  In 
one  hand  he  held  a smoking  goblet  of  rum  punch,  and  in  the 
other  a long  Indian  Chibook  pipe.  Opposite  to  him,  but  squat- 
ted upon  the  floor,  reposed  a red  Indian,  that  lived  in  the  Fort 
as  a guide,  equally  drunk,  but  preserving,  even  in  his  liquor,  an 
impassive,  grave  aspect,  strangely  contrasting  with  the  high  ex- 
citement of  Malone’s  face.  The  red  man  wore  Malone’s  uni- 
form coat,  which  he  had  put  on  back  foremost — his  head-dress 
having,  in  all  probability,  been  exchanged  for  it,  as  an  amicable 
courtesy  between  the  parties.  There  they  sat,  looking  fixedly 
at  each  other ; neither  spoke,  nor  even  smiled — the  rum  bottle, 
which  at  brief  intervals  passed  from  one  to  the  other,  maintained 
a friendly  intercourse  that  each  was  content  with. 

To  the  hearty  fit  of  laughing  of  O’Flaherty,  Malone  replied 
by  a look  of  drunken  defiance,  and  then  nodded  to  his  red 
friend,  who  returned  the  courtesy.  As  poor  Tom  left  the  room, 
he  saw  that  nothing  was  to  be  hoped  for  in  this  quarter,  and 
determined  to  beat  the  garrison  to  arms  without  any  further  de- 
lay. Scarcely  had  he  closed  the  door  behind  him,  when  a sud- 
den thought  flashed  through  his  brain.  He  hesitated,  walked 
forward  a few  paces,  stopped  again,  and  calling  out  to  the  cor- 
poral, said, — 

“ You  are  certain  they  were  militia  ? ” 

“ Yes,  sir  ; quite  sure.” 

“Then,  by  Jove,  I have  it,”  cried  OTlaherty.  “If  they 


35» 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


should  turn  out  to  be  the  Buffalo  Fencibles,  we  may  get  through 
this  scrape  better  than  I hoped  for.” 

“ I believe  you  are  right,  sir ; for  I heard  one  of  the  men  as 
I passed  observe,  4 What  will  they  say  in  Buffalo  when  it’s 
over  ? ’ ” 

44  Send  Mathers  here,  corporal ; and  do  you  order  four  rank 
and  file,  with  side-arms,  to  be  in  readiness  immediately.” 

44  Mathers,  you  have  heard  the  news,”  said  O’Flaherty,  as  the 
sergeant  entered.  44  Can  the  Fort  hold  out  against  such  a force 
as  Jackson  reports?  You  doubt;  well,  so  do  I ; so  let’s  see 
what’s  to  be  done.  Can  you  remember,  was  it  not  the  Buffalo 
militia  that  were  so  tremendously  thrashed  by  the  Delawares 
last  autumn  ? ” 

44  Yes,  sir,  they  chased  them  for  two  days  and  nights,  and  had 
they  not  reached  the  town  of  Buffalo,  the  Delawares  would  not 
have  left  a scalp  in  the  regiment.” 

44  Can  you  recollect  the  chief’s  name — it  was  Carran — some- 
thing, eh  ? ” 

44  Caudan-dacwagae.” 

44  Exactly.  Where  is  he  supposed  to  be  now  ? ” 

44  Up  in  Detroit,  sir,  they  say,  but  no  one  knows.  Those  fel- 
lows are  here  to-day,  and  there  to-morrow.” 

44  Well  then,  sergeant,  here’s  my  plan.”  Saying  these  words, 
O’Flaherty  proceeded  to  walk  towards  his  quarters,  accompanied 
by  the  sergeant,  with  whom  he  conversed  for  some  time  eagerly  ; 
occasionally  replying,  as  it  appeared,  to  objections,  and  offering 
explanations  as  the  other  seemed  to  require  them.  The  col- 
loquy lasted  half  an  hour ; and  although  the  veteran  sergeant 
seemed  difficult  of  conviction,  it  ended  by  his  saying,  as  he  left 
the  room, — 

44  Well,  sir,  as  you  say,  it  can  only  come  to  hard  knocks  at 
worst.  Here  goes.  I’ll  send  off  the  scout  party  to  make  the 
fires  and  choose  the  men  for  the  out-pickets,  for  no  time  is  to  be 
lost.” 

In  about  an  hour’s  time  from  the  scene  I have  mentioned,  a 
number  of  militia  officers,  of  different  grades,  were  seated  round 
a bivouac  fire,  upon  the  bank  of  the  Niagara  River.  The  con- 
versation seemed  of  an  angry  nature,  for  the  voices  of  the  speak- 
ers were  loud  and  irascible,  and  their  gestures  evidenced  a state 
of  high  excitement. 

44 1 see,”  said  one,  who  seemed  the  superior  of  the  party — 44 1 
see  well  where  this  will  end.  We  shall  have  another  Queenston 
affair,  as  we  had  last  fall  with  the  Delawares.” 

44 1 only  say,”  replied  another,  44  that  if  you  wish  our  men  to 
Stand  fire  to-morrow  morning,  the  less  you  remind  them  of  the 


AN  ADVENTURE  IN  CANADA. 


359 


Delawares  the  better.  What  is  that  noise  ? Is  not  that  a drum 
beating  ? ” 

The  party  at  these  words  sprang  to  their  legs,  and  stood  in 
an  attitude  of  listening  for  some  seconds. 

“ Who  goes  there  ? ” sang  out  a sentinel  from  his  post,  and 
then,  after  a moment’s  delay,  added  : “ Pass  flag  of  truce  to  Ma- 
jor Brown’s  quarters.” 

Scarcely  were  the  words  spoken,  when  three  officers  in  scarlet, 
preceded  by  a drummer  with  a white  flag,  stood  before  the  Ameri- 
can party. 

“ To  whom  may  I address  myself  ? ” said  one  of  the  British 
— who,  I may  inform  my  reader,  en  passant , was  no  other  than 
O’Flaherty — “ to  whom  may  I address  myself  as  the  officer  in 
command  ? ” 

“ I am  Major  Brown,”  said  a short  plethoric  little  man,  in  a 
blue  uniform  and  round  hat.  “ And  who  are  you  ? ” 

“ Major  O’Flaherty,  of  his  Majesty’s  Fifth  Foot,”  said  Tom, 
with  a very  sonorous  emphasis  on  each  word,  “the  bearer  of  a 
flag  of  truce  and  an  amicable  proposition  from  Major-General 
Allen,  commanding  the  garrison  of  Fort  Peak.” 

The  Americans,  who  were  evidently  taken  by  surprise  at 
their  intentions  of  attack  being  known,  were  silent,  while  he  con- 
tinued : — 

“ Gentlemen,  it  may  appear  somewhat  strange  that  a garrison, 
possessing  the  natural  strength  of  a powerful  position,  supplied 
with  abundant  ammunition  and  every  muniment  of  war,  should  de- 
spatch a flag  of  truce  on  the  eve  of  an  attack,  in  preference  to  wait- 
ing for  the  moment  when  a sharp  and  well-prepared  reception 
might  best  attest  its  vigilance  and  discipline.  But  the  reasons  for 
this  step  are  soon  explained.  In  the  first  place,  you  intend  a sur- 
prise. We  have  been  long  aware  of  your  projected  attack.  Our 
spies  have  tracked  you  from  your  crossing  the  river  above  the 
whirlpool  to  your  present  position.  Every  man  of  your  party  is 
numbered  by  us  ; and,  what  is  still  more,  numbered  by  our  allies ; 
yes,  gentlemen,  I must  repeat  it,  ‘ allies,’  though,  as  a Briton,  I 
blush  at  the  word.  Shame  and  disgrace  forever  be  that  man’s 
portion  who  first  associated  the  honorable  usages  of  war  with 
atrocious  and  bloody  cruelties  of  the  savage.  Yet  so  it  is  : the 
Delawares  of  the  hills  ” — here  the  Yankees  exchanged  very  pe- 
culiar looks — “have  this  morning  arrived  at  Fort  Peak,  with  orders 
to  ravage  the  whole  of  your  frontier,  from  Fort  George  to  Lake 
Erie.  They  brought  us  the  information  of  your  approach,  and 
their  chief  is,  while  I speak,  making  an  infamous  proposition,  by 
which  a price  is  to  be  paid  for  every  scalp  he  produces  in  the  morn- 
ing. Now,  as  the  General  cannot  refuse  to  co-operate  with  the 


36° 


HARRY  LORRE  QUER. 


savages  without  compromising  himself  with  the  commander-in- 
chief,  neither  can  he  accept  of  such  assistance  without  some 
pangs  of  conscience,  he  has  taken  the  only  course  open  to  him ; 
he  has  despatched  myself  and  my  brother  officers  here  ” — • 
O’Flaherty  glanced  at  two  privates  dressed  up  in  his  regimentals 
— “ to  offer  you  terms — ” 

O’Flaherty  paused  when  he  arrived  thus  far,  expecting  tha** 
the  opposite  party  would  make  some  reply ; but  they  con 
tinued  silent;  when  suddenly,  from  the  dense  forest,  there 
rang  forth  a wild  and  savage  yell,  that  rose  and  fell  several 
times,  like  the  pibroch  of  the  Highlander,  and  ended  at  last  in 
a loud  whoop,  that  was  echoed  and  re-echoed  again  and  again 
for  several  seconds  after. 

“ Hark  ! ” said  O’Flaherty,  with  an  accent  of  horror.  “ Hark  ! 
the  war-cry  of  the  Delawares  ! The  savages  are  eager  for 
their  prey.  May  it  yet  be  time  enough  to  rescue  you  from 
such  a fate  ! Time  presses — our  terms  are  these — as  they  do 
not  admit  of  discussion,  and  must  be  at  once  accepted  or  re- 
jected, to  your  own  ear  alone  can  I impart  them.” 

Saying  which,  he  took  Major  Brown  aside,  and  walking  apart 
from  the  others,  led  him,  by  slow  steps,  into  the  forest.  While 
O’Flaherty  continued  to  dilate  upon  the  atrocities  of  Indian 
war,  and  the  revengeful  character  of  the  savages,  he  contrived 
to  be  always  advancing  towards  the  river  side,  till  at  length  the 
glare  of  a fire  was  perceptible  through  the  gloom.  Major 
Brown  stopped  suddenly,  and  pointed  in  the  direction  of  the 
flame. 

“ It  is -the  Indian  picket,”  said  O’Flaherty,  calmly  : “ and  as 
the  facts  I have  been  detailing  may  be  more  palpable  to  your 
mind,  you  shall  see  them  with  your  own  eyes.  Yes,  I repeat 
it,  you  shall,  through  the  cover  of  this  brushwood,  see  Caudan- 
dacwagae  himself — for  he  is  with  them  in  person.” 

As  O’Flaherty  said  this,  he  led  Major  Brown,  now  speechless 
with  terror,  behind  a massive  cork-tree,  from  which  spot  they 
could  look  down  upon  the  river  side,  where  in  a small  creek  sat 
five  or  six  persons  in  blankets  and  scarlet  head-dresses  ; their 
faces  streaked,  with  patches  of  yellow  and  red  paint,  to  which 
the  glare  of  the  fire  lent  fresh  horror.  In  the  midst  sat  one 
whose  violent  gestures  and  savage  cries  gave  him  the  very  ap- 
pearance of  a demon,  as  he  resisted  with  all  his  might  the  efforts 
of  the  others  to  restrain  him,  shouting  like  a maniac  all  the 
while,  and  struggling  to  rise. 

“ It  is  the  chief,”  said  O’Flaherty  ; “ he  will  wait  no  longer. 
We  have  bribed  the  others  to  keep  him  quiet,  if  possible,  a little 
time  ; but  I see  they  cannot  succeed.” 


THE  COURIER'S  PASSPORT. 


361 


A loud  yell  of  triumph  from  below  interrupted  Tom’s  speech. 
The  infuriated  savage — who  was  no  other  than  Mr.  Malone — 
having  obtained  the  rum  bottle,  for  which  he  was  fighting  with 
all  his  might ; his  temper  not  being  improved  in  the  struggle  by 
occasional  admonitions  from  the  red  end  of  a cigar,  applied  to 
his  naked  skin  by  the  other  Indians,  who  were  his  own  soldiers 
acting  under  O’Flaherty’s  orders. 

u Now,”  said  Tom,  “ that  you  have  convinced  yourself,  and 
can  satisfy  your  brother  officers,  will  you  take  your  chance  ? or 
will  you  accept  the  honorable  terms  of  the  General — pile  your 
arms,  and  retreat  beyond  the  river  before  daybreak  ? Your 
muskets  and  ammunition  will  offer  a bribe  to  the  cupidity  of 
the  savage,  and  delay  his  pursuit  till  you  can  reach  some  place 
of  safety.” 

Major  Brown  heard  the  proposal  in  silence,  and  at  last  de- 
termined upon  consulting  his  brother  officers. 

“ I have  outstayed  my  time,”  said  O’Flaherty  ; “ but  stop  ; 
the  lives  of  so  many  are  at  stake,  I consent.”  Saying  which, 
they  walked  on  without  speaking,  till  they  arrived  where  the 
others  were  standing  around  the  watch-fire. 

As  Brown  retired  to  consult  with  the  officers,  Tom  heard  with 
pleasure  how  much  his  two  companions  had  worked  upon  the 
Yankees’  fears  during  his  absence,  by  details  of  the  vindictive 
feelings  of  the  Delawares,  and  their  vows  to  annihilate  the 
Buffalo  militia. 

Before  five  minutes  they  had  decided.  Upon  a solemn  pledge 
from  O’Flaherty  that  the  terms  of  the  compact  were  to  be  ob- 
served as  he  stated  them,  they  agreed  to  march  with  their  arms 
to  the  ford,  where,  having  piled  them,  they  were  to  cross  over, 
and  make  the  best  of  their  way  home. 

By  sunrise  the  next  morning  all  that  remained  of  the  threat- 
ened attack  on  Fort  Peak  were  the  smouldering  ashes  of  some 
wood  fires — eighty  muskets  piled  in  the  fort — and  the  yellow 
ochre  and  red  stripes  that  still  adorned  the  countenance  of  the 
late  Indian  chief — but  now  snoring  Lieutenant — Maurice  Ma- 
lone. 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

THE  COURIER’S  PASSPORT. 

A second  night  succeeded  to  the  long  dreary  day  of  the  dili- 
gence, and  the  only  one  agreeable  reflection  arose  in  the  feeling 
that  every  mile  travelled  was  diminishing  the  chance  of  pursuit, 


362 


HARRY  L OR  RE  Q UR  R. 


and  removing  me  still  further  from  that  scene  of  trouble  and 
annoyance  that  was  soon  to  furnish  gossip  for  Paris — under  the 
title  of  the  “ Affaire  O'  Leary  A 

How  he  was  ever  to  extricate  himself  from  the  numerous  and 
embarrassing  difficulties  gave  me,  I confess,  less  uneasiness 
than  the  uncertainty  of  my  own  fortunes.  Luck  seemed  ever  to 
befriend  him — me  it  had  always  accompanied  far  enough 
through  life  to  make  its  subsequent  desertion  more  painful. 
How  far  I should  blame  myself  for  this,  I stopped  not  to  consider, 
but  brooded  over  the  fact  in  a melancholy  and  discontented 
mood.  The  one  thought  uppermost  in  my  mind  was,  How 
will  Lady  Jane  receive  me — am  I forgotten — or  am  I only  re- 
membered as  the  subject  of  that  unlucky  mistake,  when,  under 
the  guise  of  an  elder  son,  I was  feted  and  made  much  of? 
What  pretensions  I had,  without  fortune,  rank,  influence,  oc 
even  expectations  of  any  kind,  to  seek  the  hand  of  the  most 
beautiful  girl  of  the  day,  with  the  largest  fortune  as  her  dowry, 
I dare  not  ask  myself — the  reply  would  have  dashed  all  my 
hopes,  and  my  pursuit  would  have  at  once  been  abandoned. 
“ Tell  the  people  you  are  an  excellent  preacher/’  was  the  advice 
of  an  old  and  learned  divine  to  a younger  and  less  expe- 
rienced one — “ Tell  them  so  every  morning,  and  every  noon,  and 
every  evening,  and  at  last  they  will  begin  to  believe  it.”  “ So,” 
thought  I,  “ I shall  impress  upon  the  Callonbys  that  I am  a 
most  unexceptionable  parti . Upon  every  occasion  they  shall 
hear  it,  as  they  open  their  newspapers  at  breakfast,  as  they  sip 
their  soup  at  luncheon,  as  they  adjust  their  napkins  at  dinner, 
as  they  chat  over  their  wine  at  night.  My  influence  in  the 
house  shall  be  unbounded,  my  pleasures  consulted,  my  dislikes 
remembered.  The  people  in  favor  with  me  shall  dine  there 
three  times  a week — those  less  fortunate  shall  be  put  into  sched- 
ule B.  My  opinions  on  all  subjects  shall  be  a law,  whether  1 
pronounce  on  politics  or  discuss  a dinner  : and  all  this  I shall 
accomplish  by  a successful  flattery  of  my  lady,  a little  bullying 
of  my  lord,  a devoted  attention  to  the  youngest  sister,  a special 
cultivation  of  Kilkee,  and  a very  prononce'  neglect  ot  Lady  Jane.” 
These  were  my  half-waking  thoughts,  as  the  heavy  diligence 
rumbled  over  the  pave  into  Nancy;  and  I was  aroused  by  the 
door  being  suddenly  jerked  open,  and  a bronzed  face,  with  a 
black  beard  and  mustache,  being  thrust  in  amongst  us. 

“Your  passports,  messieurs  ? ” as  a lantern  was  held  up  in 
succession  across  our  faces,  and  we  handed  forth  our  crumpled 
and  worn  papers  to  the  official. 

The  night  was  stormy  and  dark — gusts  of  wind  sweeping 
along,  bearing  with  them  the  tail  of  some  thunder  cloud — miner- 


THE  COURIER'S  PASSPORT. 


363 


ling  their  sounds  with  a falling  tile  from  the  roofs,  or  a broken 
chimney-pot.  The  officer  in  vain  endeavored  to  hold  open  the 
passports  while  he  inscribed  his  name  ; and  just  as  the  last 
scrawl  was  completed,  the  lantern  went  out.  Muttering  a heavy 
curse  upon  the  weather,  he  thrust  them  in  upon  us  en  masse , and, 
banging  the  door  to,  called  out  to  the  conductor,  uEn  route  .” 

Again  we  rumbled  on,  and,  ere  we  cleared  the  last  lamps  of 
the  town,  the  whole  party  were  once  more  sunk  in  sleep  save 
myself.  Hour  after  hour  rolled  by,  the  rain  pattering  upon  the 
roof,  and  the  heavy  plash  of  the  horses’  feet  contributing  then: 
mournful  sounds  to  the  melancholy  that  was  stealing  over  me. 
At  length  we  drew  up  at  the  door  of  a little  inn,  and  by  the  noise 
and  bustle  without,  I perceived  there  was  a change  of  horses. 
Anxious  to  stretch  my  legs,  and  relieve,  if  even  for  a moment, 
the  wearisome  monotony  of  the  night,  I got  out,  and  strode  into 
the  little  parlor  of  the  inn.  There  was  a cheerful  fire  in  an 
open  stove,  beside  which  stpod  a portly  figure  in  a sheepskin 
bunta  and  a cloth  travelling  cap,  with  a gold  band ; his  legs 
were  incased  in  high  Russia  leather  boots,  all  evident  signs  of 
the  profession  of  the  wearer,  had  even  his  haste  at  supper  not 
bespoke  the  fact  that  he  was  a government  courier. 

“ You  had  better  make  haste  with  the  horses,  Antoine,  if  you 
don’t  wish  the  postmaster  to  hear  of  it,”  said  he,  as  I entered, 
his  mouth  filled  with  pie  crust  and  vin  de  Beaune,  as  he  spoke. 

A lumbering  peasant,  with  a blouse,  sabots,  and  a striped  night- 
cap, replied  in  some  unknown  patois ; when  the  courier  again 
said, — 

“ Well,  then,  take  the  diligence  horses ; I must  get  on,  at  all 
events  ; they  are  not  so  hurried,  I’ll  be  bound  ; besides,  it  will 
save  the  gendarmes  some  miles  of  a ride  if  they  overtake  them 
here.” 

“ Have  we  another  vise  of  our  passports  here,  then  ? ” said 
I,  addressing  the  courier,  “ for  we  have  already  been  examined 
at  Nancy.” 

“ Not  exactly  a vise'”  said  the  courier,  eyeing  me  most  suspi- 
ciously as  he  spoke,  and  then  continuing  to  eat  with  his  former 
voracity. 

“ Then  what,  may  I ask,  have  we  to  do  with  the  gendarmes  ? ” 

“ It  is  a search,”  said  the  courier,  gruffly,  and  with  the  air  of 
one  who  desired  no  further  questioning. 

I immediately  ordered  a bottle  of  Burgundy,  and  filling  a large 
goblet  before  him,  said,  with  much  respect, — 

“ A votre  bon  voyage,  Monsieur  le  Courier.” 

To  this  he  at  once  replied,  by  taking  off  his  cap  and  bowing 
politely  as  he  drank  off  the  wine. 


36  4 


HARRY  L ORREQUER. 


“ Have  we  any  runaway  felon  or  stray  galley  slave  among  us,M 
said  I,  laughingly,  “ that  they  are  going  to  search  us  ? ” 

“No,  Monsieur,”  said  the  courier;  “ but  there  has  been  a 
government  order  to  arrest  a person  on  this  road  connected  with 
the  dreadful  Polish  plot  that  has  just  delated  at  Paris.  I passed 
a vidette  of  cavalry  at  Nancy,  and  they  will  be  up  here  in  half 
an  hour.” 

“ A Polish  plot ! Why,  I left  Paris  only  two  days  ago,  and 
never  heard  of  it.” 

“ C’est  bien  possible,  Monsieur  ? Perhaps,  after  all,  it  may 
only  be  an  affair  of  the  police ; but  they  have  certainly  arrested 
one  prisoner  at  Meurice,  charged  with  this,  as  well  as  the  attempt 
to  rob  Frascati,  and  murder  the  croupier.” 

“ Alas,”  said  I,  with  a half-suppressed  groan,  “it  is  too  true; 
that  infernal  fellow,  O’Leary,  has  ruined  me,  and  I shall  be 
brought  back  to  Paris,  and  only  taken  from  prison  to  meet  the 
open  shame  and  disgrace  of  a public  trial.” 

What  was  to  be  done  ? — every  moment  was  precious.  I walked 
to  the  door  to  conceal  my  agitation.  All  was  dark  and  gloomy. 
The  thought  of  escape  was  my  only  one ; but  how  to  accomplish 
it  ? Every  stir  without  suggested  to  my  anxious  mind  the  ap- 
proaching tread  of  horses — every  rattle  of  the  harness  seemed 
like  the  clink  of  accoutrements. 

While  I yet  hesitated,  I felt  that  my  fate  was  in  the  balance. 
Concealment  where  I was,  was  impossible ; there  were  no 
means  of  obtaining  horses  to  proceed.  My  last  only  hope  then 
rested  in  the  courier;  he,  perhaps,  might  be  bribed  to  assist  me 
at  this  juncture.  Still  his  impression  as  to  the  enormity  of  the 
crime  imputed  might  deter  him ; and  there  was  no  time  for  ex- 
planation, if  even  he  would  listen  to  it.  I returned  to  the  room  ; 
he  had  finished  his  meal,  and  was  now  engaged  in  all  the  prep- 
arations for  encountering  a wet  and  dreary  night.  I hesitated  ; 
my  fears  that  if  he  should  refuse  my  offers,  all  chance  of  my  es- 
cape was  gone,  deterred  me  for  a moment.  At  length,  as  he 
wound  a large  woollen  shawl  around  his  throat,  and  seemed  to 
have  completed  his  costume,  I summoned  nerve  for  the  effort, 
and  with  as  much  boldness  in  my  manner  as  I could  muster, 
said, — 

“ Monsieur  le  Courier,  one  word  with  you.”  I here  closed 
the  door,  and  continued  : “ My  fortunes,  my  whole  prospects  in 
life,  depend  upon  my  reaching  Strasbourg  by  to-morrow  night. 
You  alone  can  be  the  means  of  my  doing  so.  Is  there  any  price 
you  can  mention  for  which  you  will  render  me  this  service  ? — if 
so,  name  it.” 


THE  COURIER'S  PASSPORT.  365 

“ So,  then,  Monsieur,”  said  the  courier,  slowly,  “so,  then,  you 
are  the ” 

“ You  have  guessed  it,”  said  I,  interrupting.  “ Do  you  accept 
my  proposal  ? ” 

“It  is  impossible,”  said  he,  “utterly  impossible,  for  even 
should  I be  disposed  to  run  the  risk  on  my  own  account,  it  would 
avail  you  nothing  ; the  first  town  we  entered,  your  passport 
would  be  demanded,  and  not  being  vised  by  the  minister  to  travel 
en  courier  you  would  at  once  be  detained  and  arrested.” 

“ Then  am  I lost,”  said  I,  throwing  myself  upon  a chair ; at 
the  same  instant  my  passport,  which  I carried  in  my  breast- 
pocket, fell  out  at  the  feet  of  the  courier.  He  lifted  it  and 
opened  it  leisurely.  So  engrossed  was  I by  my  misfortunes, 
that  for  some  minutes  I did  not  perceive  that,  as  he  continued 
to  read  the  passport,  he  smiled  from  time  to  time  till  at  length 
a hearty  fit  of  laughing  awoke  me  from  my  abstraction.  My 
first  impulse  was  to  seize  him  by  the  throat ; controlling  my 
temper,  however,  with  an  effort,  I said, — 

“And  pray,  Monsieur,  may  I ask  in  what  manner  the  posi- 
tion I stand  in  at  this  moment  affords  you  so  much  amusement  ? 
Is  there  anything  so  particularly  droll — anything  so  excessively 
ludicrous  in  my  situation — or  what  particular  gift  do  you  possess 
that  shall  prevent  me  throwing  you  out  of  the  window  ? ” 

“ Mais,  Monsieur,”  said  he,  half  stifled  with  laughter,  “ do 
you  know  the  blunder  I fell  into  ? it  is  really  too  good.  Could 
you  only  guess  whom  I took  you  for,  you  would  laugh  too.” 
Here  he  became  so  overcome  with  merriment,  that  he  was 
obliged  to  sit  down,  which  he  did  opposite  to  me,  and  actually 
shook  with  laughter. 

“When  this  comedy  is  over,”  thought  I,  “we  may  begin  to 
understand  each  other.”  Seeing  no  prospect  of  this,  I became 
at  length  impatient,  and  jumping  on  my  legs,  said, — 

“ Enough,  sir,  quite  enough  of  this  foolery.  Believe  me,  you 
have  every  reason  to  be  thankful  that  my  present  embarrass- 
ment should  so  far  engross  me,  that  I cannot  afford  time  to  give 
you  a thrashing.” 

“ Pardon,  mille  pardons,”  said  he,  humbly,  “ but  you  will,  I 
am  sure,  forgive  me  when  I tell  you  that  I was  stupid  enough 
to  mistake  you  for  the  fugitive  Englishman,  whom  the  gendarmes 
are  in  pursuit  of.  How  good,  eh  ? ” 

“ Oh  ! devilish  good — but  what  do  you  mean  ? ” 

“ Why,  the  fellow  that  caused  the  attack  at  Frascati,  and  all 
that,  and ” 

“ Yes — well,  eh  ? Did  you  think  I was  he  ? ” 

“ To  be  sure  I did,  till  I saw_your  ^assport.” 


366 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


“ Till  you  saw  my  passport ! — Why,  what  on  earth  can  he 
mean?”  thought  I. — “No,  but,”  said  I,  half  jestingly,  “how 
could  you  make  such  a blunder?  ” 

“ Why,  your  confused  manner — your  impatience  to  get  on — 
your  hurried  questions,  all  convinced  me.  In  fact,  I’d  have 
wagered  anything  you  were  the  Englishman.” 

“ And  what,  in  Heaven’s  name,  does  he  think  me  now  ? ” 
thought  I,  as  I endeavored  to  join  the  laugh  so  ludicrous  a mis- 
take occasioned. 

“But  we  are  delaying  sadly,”  said  the  courier.  “Are  you 
ready  ? ” 

“ Ready  ? — ready  for  what  ? ” 

“ To  go  on  with  me,  of  course.  Don’t  you  wish  to  get  early 
to  Strasbourg  ? ” 

“ To  be  sure  I do.” 

“Well,  then,  come  along.  But,  pray  don’t  mind  your  luggage, 
for  my  caleche  is  loaded.  Your  instruments  can  come  in  the 
diligence.” 

“ My  instruments  in  the  diligence  ! He’s  mad — that’s  flat.” 

“ How  they  will  laugh  at  Strasbourg  at  my  mistake.” 

“That  they  will,”  thought  I.  “ The  only  doubt  is,  will  you 
join  in  the  merriment  ? ” 

So  saying,  I followed  the  courier  to  the  door,  jumped  into  his 
caleche,  and  in  another  moment  was  hurrying  over  the  pave  at  a 
pace  that  defied  pursuit,  and  promised  soon  to  make  up  for  all 
our  late  delay.  Scarcely  was  the  fur-lined  apron  of  the  caleche 
buttoned  around  me,  and  the  German  blinds  let  down,  when  I 
set  to  work  to  think  over  the  circumstance  that  had  just  be- 
fallen me.  As  I had  never  examined  my  passport  from  the  mo- 
ment Trevanion  handed  it  to  me  at  Paris,  I knew  nothing  of  its 
contents ; therefore,  as  to  what  impression  it  might  convey  of  me, 
I was  totally  ignorant.  To  ask  the  courier  for  it  now  might  ex- 
cite suspicion  ; so  that  I was  totally  at  sea  how  to  account  for 
his  sudden  change  in  my  favor,  or  in  what  precise  capacity  I 
was  travelling  beside  him.  Once,  and  once  only,  the  thought 
of  treachery  occurred  to  me.  “ Is  he  about  to  hand  me  over  to 
the  gendarmes  ? and  are  we  now  only  retracing  our  steps 
towards  Nancy?  If  so,  Monsieur  le  Courier,  whatever  be  my 
fate,  yours  is  certainly  an  unenviable  one.”  My  reflections  on 
this  head  were  soon  broken  in  upon,  for  my  companion  again  re- 
turned to  the  subject  of  his  “singular  error,”  and  assured  me 
that  he  was  as  near  as  possible  leaving  me  behind,  under  the 
mistaken  impression  of  my  being  “myself;”  and  informed  me 
that  all  Strasbourg  would  be  delighted  to  see  me,  which  latter 
piece  of  news  was  only  the  more  flattering,  that  I knew  no  one 


A NIGHT  IN  STRASBOURG, 


3 67 


there,  nor  had  ever  been  in  that  city  in  my  life  ; and  after  about 
an  hour’s  mystification  as  to  my  tastes,  habits,  and  pursuits,  he 
fell  fast  asleep,  leaving  me  to  solve  the  difficult  problem  as  to 
whether  I was  not  somebody  else,  or,  the  only  alternative — 
whether  travelling  en  courier  might  not  be  prescribed  by  physk 
cians  as  a mode  of  treating  insane  patients. 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

A NIGHT  IN  STRASBOURG. 

With  the  dawn  of  day  my  miseries  recommenced  ; for  after 
letting  down  the  sash,  and  venting  some  very  fervent  impreca- 
tions upon  the  postilion  for  not  going  faster  than  his  horses  were 
able,  the  courier  once  more  recurred  to  his  last  night  s blunder, 
and  proceeded  very  leisurely  to  catechize  me  as  to  my  probable 
stay  at  Strasbourg,  whither  I should  go  from  thence,  and  so  on. 
As  I was  still  indoubt  what  or  whom  he  took  me  for,  I answered 
with  the  greatest  circumspection — watching,  the  while,  for  any 
clue  that  might  lead  me  to  a discovery  of  myself.  Thus  occa- 
sionally evading  all  pushing  and  home  queries,  and  sometimes, 
when  hard  pressed,  feigning  drowsiness,  I passed  the  long  and 
anxious  day — the  fear  of  being  overtaken  ever  mingling  with  the 
thoughts  that  some  unlucky  admission  of  mine  might  discover 
my  real  character  to  the  courier,  who,  at  any  post  station,  might 
hand  me  over  to  the  authorities.  ^ Could  I only  guess  at  the 
part  I am  performing,”  thought  I,  u I might  manage  to  keep  up 
the  illusion ; ” but  my  attention  was  so  entirely  engrossed  by 
fencing  off  aR  his  thrusts,  that  I could  find  out  nothing.  At 
last,  as  night  drew  near,  the  thought  that  we  were  approaching 
Strasbourg  rallied  my  spirits,  suggesting  an  escape  from  all  pur- 
suit, as  well  as  the  welcome  prospect  of  getting  rid  of  my  pres- 
ent torturer,  who,  whenever  I awoke  from  a doze,  reverted  to 
our  singular  meeting  with  a pertinacity  that  absolutely  seemed 
like  malice. 

“ As  I am  aware  that  this  is  your  first  visit  to  Strasbourg,” 
said  the  courier,  “ perhaps  1 can  be  of  service  to  you  in  recom- 
mending an  hotel.  Put  up,  I advise  you,  at  the  4 Bear  5 — a cap- 
ital hotel,  and  not  ten  minutes’  distance  from  the  theatre. 

I thanked  him  for  the  counsel  ; and,  rejoicing  in  the  fact  that 
my  prototype,  whoever  he  might  be,  was  unknown  in  the  city, 
began  to  feel  some  little  hope  of  getting  through  this  scrape,  as 
I had  done  so  many  others, 


368 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


44  They  have  been  keeping  the  4 Huguenots  ’ for  your  arrival, 
and  all  Strasbourg  is  impatient  for  your  coming.” 

44  Indeed ! ” said  I,  mumbling  something  meant  to  be  modest. 
“Who  the  devil  am  I,  then,  to  cause  all  this  fracas  ? Heaven 
grant,  not  the  new  4 prefect/  or  the  commander  of  the  forces.” 

44 1 am  told  the  4 Zauberflotte  ’ is  your  favorite  opera  ? ” 

44 1 can’t  say  that  I ever  heard  it — that  is,  I mean  that  I could 
say — well  got  up.” 

Here  I floundered  on,  having  so  far  forgot  myself  as  to  endan- 
ger everything. 

44  How  very  unfortunate  ! Well,  I hope  you  will  not  long  have 
as  much  to  say.  Meanwhile,  here  we  are — this  is  the  ‘Bear.’  ” 

We  rattled  into  the  ample porte  cochereoi  avast  hotel,  the  pos- 
tilion cracking  his  enormous  whip,  and  bells  ringing  on  every 
side,  as  if  the  Crown  Prince  of  Russia  had  been  the  arrival,  and 
not  a poor  sub.  in  the  4 — th. 

The  courier  jumped  out,  and  running  up  to  the  landlord,  whis- 
pered a few  words  in  his  ear,  to  which  the  other  answered  by  a 
deep  44  Ah,  vraiment  ! ” and  then  saluted  me  with  an  obsequious- 
ness that  made  my  flesh  quake. 

44 1 shall  make  4 mes  hommages  ’ in  the  morning,”  said  the 
courier,  as  he  drove  off  at  full  speed  to  deliver  his  despatches, 
and  left  me  to  my  own  devices  to  perform  a character,  without 
even  being  able  to  guess  what  it  might  be.  My  passport,  too, 
the  only  thing  that  could  throw  any  light  upon  the  affair,  he  had 
taken  along  with  him,  promising  to  have  it  vised , and  save  me 
any  trouble. 

Of  all  my  difficulties  and  puzzling  situations  in  life,  this  was 
certainly  the  worst ; for  however  often  my  lot  had  been  to  per- 
sonate another,  yet  hitherto  I had  had  the  good  fortune  to  be 
aware  of  what  and  whom  I was  performing.  Now  I might  be 
anybody,  from  Marshal  Soult  to  Monsieur  Scribe ; one  thing 
only  was  certain,  I must  be  a 44  Celebrity.”  The  confounded 
pains  and  trouble  they  were  taking  to  receive  me,  attested  that 
fact,  and  left  me  to  the  pleasing  reflection  that  my  detection, 
should  it  take  place,  would  be  sure  of  attracting  a very  general 
publicity.  Having  ordered  my  supper  from  the  landlord,  with  a 
certain  air  of  reserve,  sufficient  to  prevent  even  an  Alsace  host 
from  obtruding  any  questions  upon  me,  I took  my  opportunity 
to  stroll  from  the  inn  down  to  the  river  side.  There  lay  the 
broad,  rapid  Rhine,  separating  me,  by  how  narrow  a limit,  from 
that  land,  where,  if  I once  arrived,  my  safety  was  certain.  Never 
did  that  great  boundary  of  nations  strike  me  so  forcibly  as  now 
when  my  own  petty  interests  and  fortunes  were  at  stake.  Night 
was  fast  settling  upon  the  low,  flat  banks  of  the  stream,  anci 


A NIGHT  IN  STRASBOURG. 


369 


nothing  stirred,  save  the  ceaseless  ripple  of  the  river.  One  fish- 
ing barque  alone  was  on  the  water.  I hailed  the  solitary  tenant 
of  it,  and  after  some  little  parley,  induced  him  to  ferry  me  over. 
This,  however,  could  only  be  done  when  the  night  was  farther 
advanced — it  being  against  the  law  to  cross  the  river  except  at 
certain  hours,  and  between  two  established  points,  where  officers 
of  the  revenue  were  stationed.  The  fisherman  was  easily  bribed, 
however,  to  evade  the  regulation,  and  only  bargained  that  I 
should  meet  him  on  the  bank  before  day-break.  Having  settled 
this  point  to  my  satisfaction,  I returned  to  my  hotel  in  better 
spirits;  and  with  a Strasbourg  pate,  and  a flask  of  Nieren  Stei- 
ner, drank  to  my  speedy  deliverance. 

How  to  consume  the  long,  dreary  hours  between  this  time 
and  that  of  my  departure,  I knew  not;  for  though  greatly 
fatigued,  I felt  that  sleep  was  impossible ; the  usual  resource 
of  a gossip  with  the  host  was  equally  out  of  the  question ; and 
all  that  remained  was  the  theatre,  which  I happily  remembered 
was  not  far  from  the  hotel. 

It  was  an  opera  night,  and  the  house  was  crowded  to  excess ; 
but  with  some  little  management,  I obtained  a place  in  a box 
near  the  stage.  The  piece  was  “ Les  Francs  Magons,”  which 
was  certainly  admirably  supported,  and  drew  down  from  the 
audience — no  mean  one  as  judges  of  music — the  loudest 
thunders  of  applause.  As  for  me,  the  house  was  as  great  a 
curiosity  as  the  opera.  The  novel  spectacle  of  some  hundred 
people  relishing  and  appreciating  the  highest  order  of  musical 
genius,  was  something  totally  new  and  surprising  to  me.  The 
curtain  at  length  fell  upon  the  fifth  act — and  now  the  deafening 
roar  of  acclamation  was  tremendous ; and  amid  a perfect  shout 
of  enthusiasm,  the  manager  announced  the  opera  for  the  ensuing 
evening.  Scarcely  had  this  subsided,  when  a buzz  ran  through 
the  house ; at  first’  subdued,  but  gradually  getting  louder — 
extending  from  the  boxes  to  the  balcony — from  the  balcony  to 
the  parterre — and  finally  even  to  the  galleries.  Groups  of  people 
stood  upon  the  benches,  and  looked  fixedly  in  one  part  of  the 
house ; then  changed  and  regarded  as  eagerly  the  other. 

“ What  can  this  mean  ? ” thought  I.  “ Is  the  theatre  on  fire  ? 
Something  surely  has  gone  wrong  ! ” 

In  this  conviction,  with  the  contagious  spirit  of  curiosity,  I 
mounted  upon  a seat,  and  looked  about  me  on  every  side ; but 
unable  still  to  catch  the  object  which  seemed  to  attract  the  rest. 
As  I was  about  to  resume  my  place,  my  eyes  fell  upon  a well- 
known  face,  which  in  an  instant  I remembered  was  that  of  my 
late  fellow-traveller,  the  courier.  Anxious  to  avoid  his  recog- 
nition, I attempted  to  get  down  at  once ; but  before  I could 

24 


370 


HARRY  L OR  RE  Q UER . 


accomplish  it,  the  wretch  had  perceived  and  recognized  me ; 
and  I saw  him,  even  with  a gesture  of  delight,  point  me  out  to 
some  friends  beside  him. 

“ Confound  the  fellow/’  muttered  I ; “ I must  leave  this  at 
once,  or  I shall  be  involved  in  some  trouble.” 

Scarcely  was  my  resolve  taken,  when  a new  burst  of  voices 
arose  from  the  pit — the  words  “ L’Auteur  ! ” mingling  with  loud 
cries  for  “ Meyerbeer ! ” “ Meyerbeer  ! ” to  appear.  “ So,” 
thought  I,  “it  seems  the  great  composer  is  here.  Oh,  by  Jove  ! 
I must  have  a peep  at  him  before  I go.”  So,  leaning  over  the 
front  rail  of  the  box,  I looked  anxiously  about  to  catch  one  hasty 
glimpse  of  one  of  the  great  men  of  his  day  and  country.  What 
was  my  surprise,  however,  to  perceive  that  about  two  thousand 
eyes  were  firmly  riveted  upon  the  box  I was  seated  in ; while 
about  half  the  number  of  tongues  called  out  unceasingly, 
“ Mr.  Meyerbeer  ! — vive  Meyerbeer  ! — vive  l’Auteur  des  Francs 
Magons! — vive  les  Francs  Magons.!”  etc.  Before  I could  turn 
to  look  for  the  hero  of  the  scene,  my  legs  were  taken  from  under 
me,  and  I felt  myself  lifted  by  several  strong  men  and  held 
out  in  front  of  the  box,  while  the  whole  audience,  rising  en 
masse , saluted  me — yes  me,  Harry  Lorrequer — with  a cheer  that 
shook  the  building.  Fearful  of  precipitating  myself  into  the 
pit  beneath  if  I made  the  least  effort,  and  half  wild  with  terror 
and  amazement,  I stared  about  like  a maniac,  while  a beautiful 
young  woman  tripped  along  the  edge  of  the  box,  supported 
by  her  companion’s  hand,  and  placed  lightly  upon  my  brow  a 
chaplet  of  roses  and  laurel.  Here  the  applause  was  like  an 
earthquake. 

“ May  the  devil  fly  away  with  half  of  you,”  was  my  grateful 
response  to  as  full  a cheer  of  applause  as  ever  the  walls  of  the 
house  re-echoed  to. 

“ On  the  stage — on  the  stage  ! ” shouted  that  portion  of  the 
audience  who,  occupying  the  same  side  of  the  house  as  myself, 
preferred  having  a better  view  of  me ; and  to  the  stage  I was 
accordingly  hurried,  down  a narrow  stair,  through  a side  scene, 
and  over  half  the  corps  de  ballet  who  were  waiting  for  their 
entree . Kicking,  plunging,  buffeting  like  a madman,  they  car- 
ried me  to  the  “ flats,”  when  the  manager  led  me  forward 
to  the  foot-lights,  my  wreath  of  flowers  contrasting  rather  rue- 
fully with  my  bruised  cheeks  and  torn  habiliments.  Human 
beings,  God  be  praised ! are  only  capable  of  certain  efforts — 
so  that  one-half  the  audience  were  coughing  their  sides  out, 
while  the  other  were  hoarse  as  bull-frogs  from  their  enthusiasm 
in  less  than  five  minutes. 

“You’ll  have  what  my  friend  Rooney  calls  a chronic  bronchitis 


A NIGHT  IN  STRASBOURG. 


371 


for  these  three  weeks,”  said  I,  “ that's  one  comfort,”  as  I bowed 
my  back  to  the  “ practicable  ” door,  through  which  I made  my 
exit,  with  the  thousand  faces  of  the  parterre  shouting  my  name, 
or,  as  fancy  dictated,  that  of  one  of  my  operas.  I retreated  be- 
hind the  scenes  to  encounter  very  nearly  as  much,  and  at  closer 
quarters,  too,  as  that  lately  sustained  before  the  audience. 
After  an  embrace  of  two  minutes'  duration  from  the  manager, 
I ran  the  gauntlet  from  the  prima  donna  to  the  last  triangle  of 
the  orchestra,  who  cut  away  a back  button  of  my  coat  as  a 
souvenir.  During  all  this,  I must  confess,  very  little  acting  was 
needed  on  my  part.  They  were  so  perfectly  contented  with 
their  self-deception,  that  if  I had  made  an  affidavit  before  the 
mayor — if  fhere  be  such  a functionary  in  such  an  insane  town — 
they  would  not  have  believed  me.  Wearied  and  exhausted  at 
length  by  all  I had  gone  through,  I sat  down  upon  a bench, 
and,  affecting  to  be  overcome  by  my  feelings,  concealed  my 
face  in  my  handkerchief.  This  was  the  first  moment  of  relief  I 
experienced  since  my  arrival ; but  it  was  not  to  last  long,  for 
the  manager,  putting  down  his  head  close  to  my  ear,  whispered, — 
“ Monsieur  Meyerbeer,  I have  a surprise  for  you,  such  as  you 
have  not  had  for  some  time,  I venture  to  say.” 

“ I defy  you  on  this  head,”  thought  I.  “ If  they  make  me 
out  King  Solomon  now,  it  will  not  amaze  me.” 

“And  when  I tell  you  my  secret,”  continued  he,  “you  will 
acknowledge  I cannot  be  of  a very  jealous  disposition.  Madame 
Baptiste  has  just  told  me  she  knew  you  formerly,  and  that  she — 
that  is  you — were,  in  fact — you  understand — there  had  been — 
so  to  say — a little  something  between  you.” 

I groaned  in  spirit  as  I thought,  “ Now  am  I lost  without  a 
chance  of  escape — the  devil  take  her  reminiscences ! ” 

“ I see,”  continued  le  bon  mari , “ you  cannot  guess  of  whom  I 
speak ; but  when  I tell  you  of  Amelie  Grandet,  your  memory 
will,  perhaps,  be  better.” 

“ Amelie  Grandet ! ” said  I,  with  a stage  start.  I need  not 
say  that  I had  never  heard  the  name  before — “ Amelie  Grandet 
here ! ” 

“Yes,  that  she  is,”  said  the  manager,  rubbing  his  hands; 
“ and  my  wife,  too.” 

“ Married  ! — Amelie  Grandet  married  ! Xo,  no,  it  is  impossi- 
ble— I cannot  believe  it.  But  were  it  true — true,  mark  me — 
for  worlds  would  I not  meet  her.” 

“ Comme  il  est  drole,”  said  the  manager,  soliloquizing  aloud  ; 
“for  my  wife  takes  it  much  easier,  seeing  they  never  met. each 
other  since  they  were  fifteen.” 

“ Ho,  ho  ! ” thought  I,  “ the  affair  is  not  so  bad  either ; time 


372 


HARRY  , ORREQUER . 


makes  great  changes  in  that  space.  And  does  she  still  remem- 
ber me  ? ” said  I,  in  a very  Romeo-in-the-garden  voice. 

44  Why,  so  far  as  remembering  the  little  boy  that  used  to  play 
with  her  in  the  orchard  at  her  mother’s  cottage  near  Pirna,  and 
with  whom  she  used  to  go  boating  upon  the  Elbe,  I believe  the 
recollection  is  perfect.  But  come  along,  she  insists  upon  seeing 
you,  and  is  at  this  very  moment  waiting  supper  in  our  room  for 
you.” 

“ A thorough  German  she  must  be,”  thought  I,  “with  her 
sympathies  and  her  supper,  her  reminiscences  and  her  Rhine 
wine  hunting  in  couples  through  her  brain.” 

Summoning  courage  from  the  fact  of  our  long  absence  from 
each  other,  I followed  the  manager  through  a wilderness  of 
pavilions,  forests,  clouds,  and  cataracts,  and  at  length  arrived 
at  a little  door,  at  which  he  knocked  gently. 

“ Come  in,”  said  a soft  voice  inside.  We  opened,  and  be- 
held a very  beautiful  young  woman  in  Tyrolese  costume.  She 
was  to  perform  in  the  afterpiece,  her  low  bodice  and  short 
scarlet  petticoat  displaying  the  most  perfect  symmetry  of  form 
and  roundness  of  proportion.  She  was  dressing  her  hair  before 
a low  glass  as  we  came  in,  and  scarcely  turned  at  our  approach ; 
but  in  an  instant,  as  if  some  sudden  thought  struck  her,  she 
sprang  fully  round,  and  looking  at  me  fixedly  for  above  a minute 
— a very  trying  one  for  me — she  glanced  at  her  husband,  whose 
countenance  plainly  indicated  that  she  was  right,  and  calling 
out  4 C’est  lui — c’est  bien  lui ! 9 threw  herself  into  my  arms,  and 
sobbed  convulsively. 

44  If  this  were  to  be  the  only  fruits  of  my  impersonation,” 
thought  I,  44  it  is  not  so  bad ; but  I am  greatly  afraid  these 
good  people  will  find  out  a wife  and  seven  babies  for  me  before 
morning.” 

Whether  the  manager  thought  that  enough  had  been  done  for 
stage  effect,  I know  not;  but  he  gently  disengaged  the  lovely 
Amelie,  and  deposited  her  upon  a sofa,  to  a place  upon  which 
she  speedily  motioned  me  by  a look  from  a pair  of  very  seduc- 
ing blue  eyes. 

“Francois,  rnon  cher,  you  must  put  off  4 La  Chaumiere.’  I 
can’t  play  to-night.” 

“ Put  it  off  ! But  only  think  of  the  audience,  ma  mie — they 
will  pull  down  the  house.” 

“ C’est  possible,”  said  she  carelessly.  44  If  that  give  them  any 
pleasure,  I suppose  they  must  be  indulged;  but  I,  too,  must 
have  a little  of  my  own  way.  I shall  not  play  !” 

The  tone  this  was  said  in — the  look — the  easy  gesture  of 
command — no  less  than  the  afflicted  helplessness  of  the  luckless 


A NIGHT  IN  STRASBOURG . 


373 


husband — showed  me  that  Amelie,  however  docile  as  a sweet- 
heart, had  certainly  her  own  way  as  wife. 

While  le  chor  Frangois  then  retired  to  make  his  proposition 
to  the  audience,  of  substituting  something  for  the  “ Chaumiere  ” 
— the  “ sudden  illness  of  Madame  Baptiste  having  prevented 
her  appearance” — we  began  to  renew  our  old  acquaintance  by  a 
thousand  inquiries  into  that  long-past  time  when  we  were  sweet- 
hearts and  lovers. 

“ You  remember  me  then  so  well  ? ” said  I. 

“As  of  yesterday.  You  are  much  taller,  and  your  eyes 

darker;  but  still  there  is  something You  know,  however, 

I have  been  expecting  to  see  you  these  two  days,  and  tell  me 
frankly  how  you  find  me  looking  ? ” 

“ More  beautiful,  a thousand  times  more  beautiful,  than  ever 
— all  save  in  one  thing,  Amelie ” 

“And  that  is—?” 

“ You  are  married.” 

“ How  you  jest.  But  let  us  look  back.  Do  you  ever  think 
on  any  of  our  old  compacts  ? ” Here  she  pulled  a leaf  from  a 
rosebud  in  her  bouquet,  and  kissed  it.  “ I wager  you  have  for- 
gotten that.” 

How  I should  have  replied  to  this  masonic  sign,  Heaven 
knows  ; but  the  manager  fortunately  entered,  to  assure  us  that 
the  audience  had  kindly  consented  not  to  pull  down  the  house, 
but  to  listen  to  a five-act  tragedy  instead,  in  which  he  had  to 
perform  the  principal  character.  “ So,  then,  don’t  wait  supper, 
Amelie  ; but  take  care  of  Monsieur  Meyerbeer  till  my  return.” 

Thus  once  more  were  we  left  to  our  souvenirs,  in  which,  when- 
ever hard  pushed  myself,  I regularly  carried  the  war  into  the 
enemy’s  camp,  by ‘allusions  to  incidents  which,  I need  not  ob- 
serve, had  never  occurred.  After  a thousand  stories  of  our 
early  loves',  mingled  with  an  occasional  sigh  over  their  fleeting 
character — now  indulging  a soft  retrospect  of  the  once  happy 
past,  now  moralizing  on  the  future — Amelie  and  I chatted  away 
the  hours  till  the  conclusion  of  the  tragedy. 

By  this  time  the  hour  was  approaching  for  my  departure  ; so, 
after  a very  tender  leave-taking  with  my  new  friend  and  my  old 
love,  I left  the  theatre,  and  walked  slowly  along  to  the  river. 

“ So  much  for  early  associations,”  thought  I ; “ and  how  much 
better  pleased  are  we  ever  to  paint  the  past  according  to  our  own 
fancy,  than  to  remember  it  as  it  really  was.  Hence  all  the  in- 
sufferable cant  about  happy  infancy,  and  ‘ the  glorious  school- 
boy days,’  which  have  generally  no  more  foundation  in  fact  than 
have  the  1 Chateaux  en  Espagne  ’ we  build  up  for  the  future.  I 
wager  that  the  real  Amant  d’Enfance,  when  he  arrives,  is  not 


374 


HARR  Y L ORREQUER. 


half  so  great  a friend  with  the  fair  Amelie  as  his  unworthy 
shadow.  At  the  same  time,  I had  just  as  soon  that  Lady  Jane 
should  have  no  ‘ early  loves  5 to  look  back  upon,  except  such  as 
I have  performed  a character  in.” 

The  plash  of  oars  near  me  broke  my  reflections,  and  the  next 
moment  found  me  skimming  the  rapid  Rhine,  as  I thought  for 
the  last  time.  “ What  will  they  say  in  Strasbourg  to-morrow  ? 
How  will  they  account  for  the  mysterious  disappearance  of 
Monsieur  Meyerbeer  ? Poor  Amelie  Grandet ! ” for  so  com- 
pletely had  the  late  incidents  engrossed  my  attention,  that  I had 
for  the  moment  lost  sight  of  the  most  singular  event  of  all — 
how  I came  to  be  mistaken  for  the  illustrious  composer. 


CHAPTER  L. 

A SURPRISE. 

It  was  late  upon  the  following  day  ere  I awoke  from  the  long 
deep  sleep  that  closed  my  labors  in  Strasbourg.  In  the  confu- 
sion of  my  waking  thoughts,  I imagined  myself  still  before  a 
crowded  and  enthusiastic  audience — the  glare  of  the  foot-lights 
— the  crash  of  the  orchestra — the  shouts  of  “ Z’ Auteur ! ” 
“ L Auteur  ! ” were  all  before  me,  and  so  completely  possessed 
me,  that,  as  tne  waiter  entered  with  hot  water,  I could  not  resist 
the  impulse  to  pull  off  my  nightcap  with  one  hand,  and  press 
the  other  to  my  heart  in  the  usual  theatrical  style  of  acknowledg- 
ments of  a most  flattering  reception.  The  startled  look  of  the 
poor  fellow  as  he  neared  the  door  to  escape,  roused  me  from  my 
hallucination,  and  awakened  me  to  the  conviction  that  the  sus- 
picion of  lunacy  might  be  a still  heavier  infliction  than  the  per- 
sonation of  Monsieur  Meyerbeer. 

With  thoughts  of  this  nature,  I assumed  my  steadiest  demeanor 
— ordered  my  breakfast  in  the  most  orthodox  fashion — ate  it 
like  a man  in  his  senses  ; and  when  I threw  myself  back  in  the 
wicker  conveniency  they  call  a caleche,  and  bid  adieu  to  Kehl, 
the  whole  fraternity  of  the  inn  would  have  given  me  a certificate 
of  sanity  before  any  court  in  Europe. 

“ Now  for  Munich,”  said  I,  as  we  rattled  along  down  the  steep 
street  of  the  little  town.  “ Now  for  Munich,  with  all  the  speed 
that  first  of  postmasters  and  slowest  of  men,  the  Prince  of  Tour 
and  Taxis,  will  afford  us.” 

The  future  engrossed  all  my  thoughts ; and,  puzzling  as  my 
hate  adventures  had  been  to  account  for,  I never  for  a moment 


A SURPRISE. 


375 


reverted  to  the  past.  “ Is  she  to  be  mine  ? ” was  the  ever  rising 
question  in  my  mind.  The  thousand  difficulties  that  had  crossed 
my  path  might  long  since  have  terminated  a pursuit  where  there 
was  so  little  of  promise,  did  I not  cherish  the  idea  in  my  heart, 
that  I was  fated  to  succeed.  Sheridan  answered  the  ribald 
sneers  of  his  first  auditory  by  saying,  “ Laugh  on  ; but  I have  it 

in  me,  and  by it  shall  come  out.”  So  I whispered  to  myself, 

— “ Go  on,  Harry.  Luck  has  been  hitherto  against  you,  it  is 
true ; but  you  have  yet  one  throw  of  the  dice,  and  something 

seems  to  say,  a fortunate  one  in  store  ; and  if  so ” But  I 

cannot  trust  myself  with  such  anticipations.  I am  well  aware 
how  little  the  world  sympathizes  with  the  man  whose  fortunes  are 
the  sport  of  his  temperament — that  April-day  frame  of  mind  is 
ever  the  jest  and  scoff  of  those  hardier  and  sterner  natures  who, 
if  never  overjoyed  by  success,  are  never  much  depressed  by  fail- 
ure. That  I have  been  cast  in  the  former  mould,  these  Confes- 
sions have,  alas  ! plainly  proved  ; but  that  I regret  it,  I fear  also, 
for  my  character  for  sound  judgment,  I must  answer  “No.” 

“ Better  far  to  be 

In  utter  darkness  lying, 

Than  be  blest  with  light,  and  see 
That  light  forever  flying,” 

is  doubtless  very  pretty  poetry,  but  very  poor  philosophy.  For 
myself — and  some  glimpses  of  sunshine  this  fair  world  has  af- 
forded me,  fleeting  and  passing  enough,  in  all  conscience — and 
yet  I am  not  so  ungrateful  as  to  repine  at  my  happiness  because 
it  was  not  permanent,  while  I am  thankful  for  those  bright  hours 
of  “ Love’s  young  dream,”  which,  if  nothing  more,  are  at  least 
delightful  souvenirs.  They  form  the  golden  thread  in  the  tangled 
web  of  our  existence,  ever  appearing  amid  the  darker  surface 
around,  and  throwing  a fair  halo  of  brilliancy  on  what,  without 
it,  were  cold,  bleak,  and  barren.  No,  no — 

“ The  light  that  lies 
In  woman’s  eyes,” 

were  it  twice  as  fleeting — as  it  is  ten  times  more  brilliant — than 
the  forked  lightning,  irradiates  the  dark  gloom  within  us  for 
many  a long  day  after  it  has  ceased  to  shine  upon  us.  As  in 
boyhood  it  is  the  humanizing  influence  that  tempers  the  fierce 
and  unruly  passions  of  our  nature,  so  in  manhood  it  forms  the 
goal  to  which  all  our  better  and  higher  aspirations  tend,  telling 
us  there  is  something  more  worthy  than  gold,  and  a more  lofty 
pinnacle  of  ambition  than  the  praise  and  envy  of  our  fellow-men  ; 
and  we  may  rest  assured  that  when  this  feeling  dies  within  us, 


376 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


all  the  ideal  of  life  dies  with  it,  and  nothing  remains  save  the 
dull  reality  of  our  daily  cares  and  occupations.  “ I have  lived 
and  have  loved,”  saith  Schiller ; and  if  it  were  not  that  there 
seems  some  tautology  in  the  phrase,  I should  say,  such  is  my  own 
motto.  “If  Lady  Jane  but  prove  true — if  I have  really  suc- 
ceeded— if,  in  a word But  why  speculate  upon  such  chances  ? 

— what  pretensions  have  I ? — what  reasons  to  look  for  such  a 
prize  ? Alas  ! and  alas  ! were  I to  catechize  myself  too  closely, 
I fear  that  my  horses’  heads  would  face  towards  Calais,  and  that 
I should  turn  my  back  upon  the  only  prospect  of  happiness  I 
can  picture  to  myself  in  this  world.”  In  reflections  such  as  these 
the  hours  rolled  over,  and  it  was  already  late  at  night  when  we 
reached  the  little  village  of  Merchem.  While  fresh  horses  were 
being  got  ready,  I seized  the  occasion  to  partake  of  the  table 
d’hote  supper  of  the  inn,  at  the  door  of  which  the  diligence  was 
drawn  up.  Around  the  long,  and  not  over-scrupulously  clean 
table,  sat  the  usual  assemblage  of  a German  “ Eilwagen  ” — 
smoking,  dressing  salad,  knitting,  and  occasionally  picking  their 
teeth  with  their  forks,  until  the  soup  should  make  its  appearance. 
Taking  rny  place  amid  this  motley  assemblage  of  mustachioed 
shopkeepers  and  voluminously-petticoated  Fraus,  I sat  calculat- 
ing how  long  human  patience  could  endure  such  companionship, 
when  my  attention  was  aroused  by  hearing  a person  near  me 
narrate  to  his  friend  the  circumstances  of  my  debut  at  Strasbourg, 
with  certain  marginal  notes  of  his  own,  that  not  a little  surprised 
me. 

“ And  so  it  turned  out  not  to  be  Meyerbeer  after  all,”  said 
the  listener. 

“ Of  course  not,”  replied  the  other.  “ Meyerbeer’s  passport 
was  stolen  from  him  in  the  diligence  by  this  English  escroc , and 
the  consequence  was  that  our  poor  countryman  was  arrested, 
the  other  passport  being  found  upon  him  ; while  the  English- 
man, proceeding  to  Strasbourg,  took  his  benefit  at  the  opera, 
and  walked  away  with  above  twelve  thousand  florins.” 

“ Sappermint ! ” said  the  other,  tossing  off  his  beer.  “ He 
must  have  been  a clever  fellow,  though,  to  lead  the  orchestra 
in  the  Francs  Mafons” 

“ That  is  the  most  astonishing  part  of  all,  for  they  say  in 
Strasbourg  that  his  performance  upon  the  violin  was  far  finer 
than  Paganini’s  ; but  there  seems  some  secret  in  it,  after  all : 
for  Madame  Baptiste  swears  that  he  is  Meyerbeer;  and,  in 
fact,  the  matter  is  far  from  being  cleared  up — nor  can  it  be,  till 
he  is  apprehended.” 

“ Which  shall  not  be  for  some  time  to  come,”  said  I to  my- 
self, as,  slipping  noiselessly  from  the  room,  I regained  my 


A SURPRISE. 


377 


caleche,  and  in  ten  minutes  more  was  proceeding  on  my  jour- 
ney. “ So  much  for  correct  information/’  thought  I.  “ One 
thing,  however,  is  certain — to  the  chance  interchange  of  pass- 
ports I owe  my  safety,  with  the  additional  satisfaction  that  my 
little  German  acquaintance  is  reaping  a pleasant  retribution  for 
all  his  worry  and  annoyance  of  me  in  the  coupe.” 

Only  he  who  has  toiled  over  the  weary  miles  of  a long  jour- 
ney— exclusively  occupied  with  one  thought — one  overpowering 
feeling — can  adequately  commiserate  my  impatient  anxiety  as 
the  days  rolled  slowly  over  on  the  long  tiresome  road  that  leads 
from  the  Rhine  to  the  south  of  Germany. 

The  morning  was  breaking  on  the  fourth  day  of  my  journey  as 
the  tall  spires  of  Munich  rose  to  my  view,  amid  the  dull  and  arid 
desert  of  sand  that  city  is  placed  in.  “ At  last ! ” was  my  ex- 
clamation, as  the  postilion  tapped  at  the  window  with  his  whip, 
and  then  pointed  towards  the  city — “ at  last ! Oh ! what 
would  be  the  ecstasy  of  my  feelings  now,  could  I exchange  the 
torturing  anxieties  of  suspense  for  the  glorious  certainty  my 
heart  throbs  for ; now  my  journey  is  nearing  its  end,  to  see  me 
claim  as  my  own  what  I only  barely  aspire  to  in  the  sanguine 
hope  of  a heart  that  will  not  despair.  But  cheer  up,  Harry.  It 
is  a noble  stake  you  play  for ; and  it  is  ever  the  bold  gambler 
that  wins.”  Scarcely  was  this  reflection  made  half  aloud,  when 
a sudden  shock  threw  me  from  my  seat.  I fell  towards  the 
door,  which,  bursting  open,  launched  me  out  upon  the  road,  at 
the  same  moment  that  the  broken  axletree  of  the  caleche  had 
upset  it  on  the  opposite  side,  carrying  one  horse  along  with  it, 
and  leaving  the  other,  with  the  postilion  on  his  back,  kicking 
and  plunging  with  all  his  might.  After  assisting  the  frightened 
fellow  to  dismount,  and  having  cut  the  traces  of  the  restive  an- 
imal, I then  perceived  that  in  the  melee  I had  not  escaped  scath- 
less.  I could  barely  stand  ; and,  on  passing  my  hand  along  my 
instep,  perceived  I had  sprained  my  ankle  in  the  fall.  The  day 
was  only  breaking,  no  one  was  in  sight,  so  that  after  a few  min- 
utes’ consideration,  the  best  thing  to  do  appeared  to  get  the 
other  horse  upon  his  legs,  and  despatching  the  postilion  to  Mu- 
nich, then  about  three  leagues  distant,  for  a carriage,  wait  pa- 
tiently on  the  road-side  for  his  return.  No  sooner  was  the  re- 
solve made  than  carried  into  execution  ; and  in  less  than  a quar- 
ter of  an  hour  from  the  moment  of  the  accident,  I was  seated 
upon  the  bank,  watching  the  retiring  figure  of  the  postilion,  as 
he  disappeared  down  a hill,  on  his  way  to  Munich.  When  the 
momentary  burst  of  impatience  was  over,  I could  not  help  con- 
gratulating myself  that  I was  so  far  fortunate  in  reaching  the 
end  of  my  journey  ere  the  ^^^^nce  befell  me.  Had  it  oc- 


378 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


curred  at  Stutgard,  I really  think  that  it  would  have  half  driven 
me  distracted. 

I was  not  long  in  my  present  situation,  when  a number  of 
peasants,  with  broad-brimmed  hats  and  many-buttoned  coats, 
passed  on  their  way  to  work  ; they  all  saluted  me  respectfully, 
but  although  they  saw  the  broken  carriage,  and  might  well  guess 
at  the  nature  of  my  accident,  yet  not  one  ever  thought  of  prof- 
fering his  services,  or  even  indulging  curiosity,  by  way  of  in- 
quiry. “ How  thoroughly  German,”  I thought.  “ These  people 
are  the  Turks  of  Europe,  stupefied  with  tobacco  and  strong  beer. 
They  have  no  thought  for  anything  but  themselves,  and  their 
own  immediate  occupations.”  Perceiving  at  length  one  whose 
better  dress  and  more  intelligent  look  bespoke  a rank  above 
the  common,  I made  the  effort  with  such  plat  Deutsch  as  I 
could  muster,  to  ask  if  there  were  any  house  near,  where  I 
could  remain  till  the  postilion’s  return,  and  learned,  greatly  to 
my  gratification,  that  by  taking  the  path  which  led  through  a 
grove  of  pine-trees  near  me,  I should  find  a chateau,  but  who 
was  the  proprietor  he  knew  not ; indeed,  the  people  were  only 
newly  come,  and  he  believed  were  foreigners — English,  he 
thought.  Oh,  how  my  heart  jumped,  as  I said,  “ Can  they  be 
the  Callonbys  ? are  they  many  in  family  ? are  there  ladies — 
young  ladies  among  them  ? ” He  knew  not.  Having  hastily 
arranged  with  my  new  friend  to  watch  the  carriage  till  my  re- 
turn, I took  the  path  he  showed  me,  and,  smarting  with  pain  at 
every  step,  hurried  along  as  best  I could  towards  the  chateau. 
I had  not  walked  many  minutes,  when  a break  in  the  wood  gave 
me  a view  of  the  old  mansion,  and  at  once  dispelled  the  illusion 
that  was  momentarily  gaining  upon  me.  “ They  could  not  be 
the  Callonbys.”  The  house  was  old  ; and  though  it  had  once 
been  a fine  and  handsome  structure,  exhibited  now  abundant 
traces  of  decay  ; the  rich  cornices  which  supported  the  roof  had 
fallen  in  many  places,  and  lay  in  fragments  upon  the  terrace  be- 
neath; the  portico  of  the  door  was  half  tumbling ; and  the  arch- 
itraves of  the  windows  were  broken  and  dismantled  ; the  tall 
and  once  richly  ornamented  chimneys  were  bereft  of  all  their 
tracery,  and  stood  bolt  upright  in  all  their  nakedness  above 
the  high-pitched  roof.  A straggling  jet  d'eau  was  vigorously 
fighting  its  way  amid  a mass  of  creeping  shrubs  and  luxuriant 
lichens  that  had  grown  around  and  above  a richly  carved  fount- 
ain, and  fell  in  a shower  of  sparkling  dew  upon  the  rank  grass 
and  tall  weeds  around.  The  gentle  murmur  was  the  only  sound 
that  broke  the  stillness  of  the  morning. 

A few  deities  in  lead  and  stone,  mutilated  and  broken,  stood  hke 
the  Genii  loci,  guarding  die  r1  Nation  about  them,  where  an  old 


A SURPRISE. 


379 


superannuated  peacock,  with  drooping,  ragged  tail,  was  the  only 
living  thing  to  be  seen  All  bespoke  the  wreck  of  what  once 
was  great  and  noble,  and  all  plainly  told  me  that  such  could 
not  be  the  abode  of  the  Callonbys. 

Half  doubting  that  the  house  were  inhabited,  and  half  scru- 
pling, if  so,  to  disturb  its  inmates  from  their  rest,  I sat  down 
upon  the  terrace  steps  and  fell  into  a fit  of  musing  on  the  ob- 
jects about.  That  strange  propensity  of  my  countrymen  to  settle 
down  in  remote  and  unfrequented  spots  upon  the  Continent  had 
never  struck  me  so  forcibly  : for  although  unquestionably  there 
were  evident  traces  of  the  former  grandeur  of  the  place,  yet  it 
was  a long-past  greatness  ; and  in  the  dilapidated  walls,  weed- 
grown  walks,  the  dark  and  gloomy  pine-groves,  there  were  more 
hints  for  sadness  than  I should  willingly  surround  myself  by,  in 
a residence.  The  harsh  grating  of  a heavy  door  behind  roused 
me  ; I turned  and  beheld  an  old  man  in  a species  of  tarnished 
and  worm  eaten  livery,  who,  holding  the  door,  again  gazed  at  me 
with  a mingled  expression  of  fear  and  curiosity.  Having  briefly 
explained  the  circumstances  which  had  befallen  me,  and  ap- 
pealed to  the  broken  caleche  upon  the  road  to  corroborate  my 
testimony,  which  I perceived  needed  such  aid,  the  old  man  in- 
vited me  to  enter,  saying  that  his  master  and  mistress  had  not 
yet  risen,  but  that  he  would  himself  give  me  some  breakfast,  of 
which  by  this  time  I stood  much  in  want.  The  room  into  which 
I was  ushered  corresponded  well  with  the  exterior  of  the  house. 
It  was  large,  bleak,  and  ill-furnished  , the  ample,  uncurtained 
windows,  the  cold,  white-panelled  walls,  the  uncarpeted  floor, 
all  giving  it  an  air  of  uninhabitable  misery.  A few  chairs 
of  the  Lowis-Quatorze  taste,  with  blue  velvet  linings,  faded 
and  worn,  a cracked  marble  table  upon  legs  that  once  had  been 
gilt,  two  scarcely  detectable  portraits  of  a mail-clad  hero  and  a 
scarcely  less  formidable  fair,  with  a dove  upon  her  wrist,  formed 
the  principal  articles  of  furniture  in  this  dismal  abode,  where 
so  sad  and  depressing  did  everything  appear,  that  I half  re- 
gretted the  curiosity  that  had  tempted  me  from  the  balmy  air 
and  cheerful  morning  without,  to  the  gloom  and  solitude  around 
me. 

The  old  man  soon  reappeared  with  a not  despicable  cup  of  cafl 
noir , and  a piece  of  bread  as  large  as  a teaspoon,  and  used  by  the 
Germans  pretty  much  in  the  same  way.  As  the  adage  of  the 
46  gift  horse  ” is  of  tolerably  general  acceptation,  I ate  and  was 
thankful,  mingling  my  acknowledgments  from  time  to  time 
with  some  questions  about  the  owners  of  the  mansion,  concern- 
ing whom  I could  not  help  feeling  curious.  The  ancient  servi- 
tor, however,  knew  little  or  nothing  of  those  he  served  ; his  mas- 


3&3 


HARRY  L ORREQ  UER . 


ter  was  the  honorable  baron  ; but  of  his  name  he  was  ignorant ; 
his  mistress  was  young  ; they  had  not  been  many  months  there  ; 
they  knew  no  one — had  no  visitors — he  had  heard  they  were 
English,  but  did  not  know  it  himself  ; they  were  “gute  Leute,” 
“good  people,”  and  that  was  enough  for  him.  How  strange 
did  all  this  seem,  that  two  people,  young,  too,  should  separate 
themselves  from  all  the  attractions  and  pleasures  of  the  world 
and  settle  down  in  this  dark  and  dreary  solitude,  where  every 
association  was  of  melancholy,  every  object  a text  for  sad 
reflections.  Lost  in  these  thoughts,  I sat  down  beside  the  win- 
dow, and  heeded  not  the  old  man  as  he  noiselessly  left  the 
room.  My  thoughts  ran  on  over  the  strange  phases  in  which 
life  presents  itself,  and  how  little,  after  all,  external  influences 
have  to  do  with  that  peace  of  mind  whose  origin  is  within. 
“ The  Indian,  whose  wigwam  is  beside  the  cataract,  heeds  not 
its  thunders,  nor  feels  its  sprays  as  they  fall  in  everlasting  dews 
upon  him  ; the  Arab  of  the  desert  sees  no  bleakness  in  those 
never-ending  plains,  upon  whose  horizon  his  eye  has  rested 
from  childhood  to  age.  Who  knows  but  he  who  inhabits  this 
lonely  dwelling  may  have  once  shone  in  the  gay  world,  mixing 
in  its  follies,  tasting  of  its  fascination  ? And  to  think  that 

now ” The  low  murmurs  of  the  pine  tops,  the  gentle  rustle 

of  the  water  through  the  rank  grass,  and  my  own  thoughts  combin- 
ing, overcame  me  at  length,  and  I slept — how  long  I know  not ; 
but  when  I awoke,  certain  changes  about  showed  me  that  some 
length  of  time  had  elapsed;  a gay  wood  fire  was  burning  on 
the  hearth ; an  ample  breakfast  covered  the  table  ; and  the 
broad  sheet  of  the  Times  newspaper  was  negligently  reposing  in 
the  deep  hollow  of  an  arm-chair.  Before  I had  well  thought  how 
to  apologize  for  the  cool  insouciance  of  my  intrusion,  the  door 
opened,  and  a tall,  well-built  man  entered  ; his  shooting-jacket 
and  gaiters  were  evidence  of  his  English  origin,  while  a bushy 
mustache  and  most  ample  “ Henri  Quatre  ” nearly  concealed 
features  that  still  were  not  quite  unknown  to  me  ; he  stopped, 
looked  steadily  at  me,  placed  a hand  on  either  shoulder,  and 
calling  out,  “ Harry — Harry  Lorrequer,  by  all  that’s  glorious!  ” 
rushed  from  the  room  in  a transport  of  laughter. 

If  my  escape  from  the  gallows  depended  upon  my  guessing 
my  friend,  I should  have  submitted  to  the  last  penalty  of  the 
law  : never  was  I so  completely  nonplussed.  “ Confound  him, 
what  does  he  mean  by  running  away  in  that  fashion  ! It  would 
serve  him  right  were  I to  decamp  by  one  of  the  windows  before 
he  comes  back  ; but,  hark ! some  one  is  approaching.” 

“ I tell  you  I cannot  be  mistaken,”  said  the  man’s  voice  from 
without. 


A SURPRISE.  381 

“ Oh,  impossible  ! ” said  a ladylike  accent  that  seemed  not 
heard  by  me  for  the  first  time. 

“ Judge  for  yourself,  though  certainly  the  last  time  you  saw 
him  may  confuse  your  memory  a little. ” 

“What  the  devil  does  he  mean  by  that  ? ” said  I,  as  the  door 
opened,  and  a very  beautiful  young  woman  came  forward,  who, 
after  a moment’s  hesitation,  called  out, — 

“ True,  indeed,  it  is  Mr.  Lorrequer ; but  he  seems  to  have  for- 
gotten me.” 

The  eyes,  the  lips,  the  tone  of  the  voice,  were  all  familiar. 
“ What ! can  it  be  possible  ! ” Her  companion,  who  had  now 
entered,  stood  behind  her,  holding  his  sides  with  ill-suppressed 
mirth,  and  at  length  called  out, — 

“ Harry,  my  boy,  you  scarcely  were  more  discomposed  the 

last  morning  we  parted  when  the  yellow  plush ” 

“ By  Jove  it  is  ! ” said  I,  as  I sprang  forward,  and  seizing  my 
fair  friend  in  my  arms,  saluted  upon  both  cheeks  my  quondam 
flame,  Miss  Kamworth,  now  the  wife  of  my  old  friend,  Jack 
Waller,  of  whom  I have  made  due  mention  in  an  early  chapter 
of  these  Confessions. 

Were  I given  a muster-roll  of  my  acquaintance  to  say  which 
of  them  might  inhabit  this  deserted  mansion,  Jack  Waller  would 
certainly  have  been  the  last  I should  have  selected — the  gay, 
lively,  dashing,  high-spirited  Jack,  fond  of  society,  dress,  equi- 
page, living  entirely  in  the  world,  known  to  and  liked  by  every 
body,  of  universal  reputation.  Did  you  want  a cavalier  to  see 
your  wife  through  a crush  at  the  Opera,  a friend  in  a duel,  a 
rider  for  your  kicking  horse  in  a stiff  steeplechase,  a bow-oar  for 
your  boat  at  a rowing-match,  Jack  was  your  man.  Such,  then, 
was  my  surprise  at  finding  him  here,  that  although  there  were 
many  things  I longed  to  inquire  about,  my  first  question  was — 

“ And  how  came  you  here  ? ” 

“Life  has  its  vicissitudes,”  replied  Jack,  laughing;  “many 
stranger  things  have  come  to  pass  than  my  reformation.  But  first 
of  all  let  us  think  of  breakfast ; you  shall  have  ample  satisfac- 
tion for  all  your  curiosity  afterwards.” 

“ Not  now,  I fear  ; I am  hurrying  on  to  Munich.” 

“ Oh,  I perceive  ; but  you  are  aware  that your  friends  are 

not  there.” 

“ The  Callonbys  not  at  Munich  ! ” said  I,  with  a start. 

“ No,  they  have  been  at  Saltzburg,  in  the  Tyrol,  for  some 
weeks ; but  don’t  fret  yourself ; they  are  expected  to-morrow  in 
time  for  the  court  masquerade,  so  that  until  then  at  least  you  are 
my  guest.” 

Overjoyed  at  this  information,  T turned  my  attention  towards 


382 


'ir.lRRY  LORREQUERs 


madame,  who**!  I found  much  improved  ; the  emlon^uarf  of  wom- 
anhood had  still  farther  increased  the  charms  of  one  who  had 
always  been  handsome,  and  I could  not  help  acknowledging  that 
my  friend  was  warrantable  in  any  scheme  for  securing  such  a 
prize. 


CHAPTER  LI. 

JACK  WALLER’S  STORY. 

The  day  passed  quickly  over  with  my.  newly-found  friends, 
whose  curiosity  to  learn  my  adventures  since  we  parted  antici- 
pated me  in  my  wish  to  learn  theirs.  After  an  early  dinner, 
however,  with  a fresh  log  upon  the  hearth,  a crusty  flask  of  red 
hermitage  before  us,  Jack  and  I found  ourselves  alone,  and  at 
liberty  to  speak  freely  together. 

“ I scarcely  could  have  expected  such  would  be  our  meeting, 
Jack,”  said  I,  44  from  the  way  we  last  parted.” 

“ Yes,  by  Jove,  Harry,  I believe  I behaved  but  shabbily  to  you 
in  that  affair  : but  4 Love  and  War,’  you  know  ; and,  besides,  we 
had  a distinct  agreement  drawn  up  between  us.” 

44  All  true  ; and,  after  all,  you  are,  perhaps,  less  to  blame  than 
my  own  miserable  fortune  that  lies  in  wait  to  entrap  and  disap- 
point me  at  every  turn  in  life.  Tell  me,  what  do  you  know  of  the 
Callonbys  ? ” 

44  Nothing  personally.  We  have  met  them  at  dinner,  a visit 
passed  subsequently  between  us,  et  voila  tout;  they  have  been 
scenery  hunting,  picture  hunting,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  since 
their  arrival,  and  rarely  much  in  Munich.  But  how  do  you  stand 
there  ? 4 To  be  or  not  to  be  ’ — eh  ? ” 

44  That  is  the  very  question  of  all  others  I would  fain  solve, 
and  yet  am  in  most  complete  ignorance  of  all  about  it ; but.  the 
time  approaches  which  must  decide  all.  I have  neither  temper 
nor  patience  for  further  contemplation  of  it.  So  here  goes  : 
4 Success  to  the  Enterprise.’  ” 

44  Or,”  said  Jack,  tossing  off  his  glass  at  the  moment,  44  or,  as 
they  would  say  in  Ireland,  4 Your  health  and  inclinations,  if  they 
be  virtuous.’  ” 

44  And  now,  Jack,  tell  me  something  of  your  own  fortunes  since 
the  day  you  passed  me  in  the  post-chaise  and  four.” 

44  The  story  is  soon  told.  You  remember  that  when  I carried 
off  Mary,  I had  no  intention  of  leaving  England  whatever : my 
object  was,  after  making  her  my  wife,  to  open  negotiations  with 
the  old  colonel ; and  after  the  approved  routine  of  penitential 


JACK  WALLER'S  STORY. 


3*3 


letters,  imploring  forgiveness,  and  setting  forth  happiness  only 
wanting  his  sanction  to  make  it  heaven  itself,  to  have  thrown 
ourselves  at  his  feet  selon  les  regies , sobbed,  blubbered,  blew  our 
noses,  and  dressed  for  dinner,  very  comfortable  inmates  of  that 
particularly  snug  residence,  4 Hydrabad  Cottage.’  Now  Mary, 
who  behaved  with  great  courage  for  a couple  of  days  after  that, 
got  low-spirited  and  depressed ; the  desertion  of  her  father,  as 
she  called  it,  weighed  upon  her  mind,  and  all  my  endeavors  to 
rally  and  comfort  her  were  fruitless  and  unavailing.  Each  day, 
however,  I expected  to  hear  something  of,  or  from,  the  colonel 
that  would  put  an  end  to  this  feeling  of  suspense  ; but  no — three 
weeks  rolled  on  ; although  I took  care  that  he  knew  of  our  address, 
we  never  received  any  communication.  You  are  aware  that  when 
I married  I knew  Mary  had,  or  was  to  have  had,  a large  fortune, 
and  that  I myself  had  not  then  enough  in  the  world  to  pay  the 
common  expenses  of  our  wedding  tour.  My  calculation  was 
this — the  reconciliation  will  possibly,  what  with  delays  of  post, 
distance,  and  deliberation,  take  a month — say  five  weeks — now, 
at  forty  pounds  per  week,  that  makes  exactly  two  hundred  pounds 
— such  being  the  precise  limit  of  my  exchequer,  when,  blessed 
with  a wife,  a man,  and  a maid,  three  imperials,  a cap-case,  and 
a poodle,  I arrived  at  the  Royal  Hotel,  in  Edinburgh.  Had  I 
been  Lord  Francis  Somebody,  with  his  hundred  thousand  a year, 
looking  for  a new  4 distraction  ’ at  any  price,  or,  still  more,  were 
I a London  shopkeeper  spending  a Sunday  in  Boulogne-sur-Mer, 
and  trying  to  find  out  something  4 expensive,  as  he  had  only  one 
day  to  stay,’  I could  not  have  more  industriously  sought  out  op- 
portunities fpr  extravagance,  and  each  day  contrived  to  find  out 
some  two  or  three  acquaintances  to  bring  home  to  dinner.  And 
as  I affected  to  have  been  married  for  a long  time,  Mary  felt  less 
awkward  among  strangers,  and  we  got  on  famously ; still  the  si- 
lence of  the  colonel  weighed  upon  her  mind,  and  although  she 
partook  of  none  of  my  anxieties  from  that  source,  being  per- 
fectly ignorant  of  the  state  of  my  finances,  she  dwelt  so  constantly 
upon  this  subject,  that  I at  length  yielded  to  her  repeated  solic- 
itations, and  permitted  her  to  write  to  her  father.  Her  letter 
was  a most  proper  one,  combining  a dutiful  regret  for  leaving 
her  home,  with  the  hope  that  her  choice  had  been  such  as  to 
excuse  her  rashness,  or,  at  least,  palliate  her  fault.  It  went  to 
say,  that  her  father’s  acknowledgment  of  her  was  all  she  needed 
or  cared  for  to  complete  her  happiness,  and  asking  for  his  per- 
mission to  seek  it  in  person.  This  was  the  substance  of  the  let- 
ter, which,  upon  the  whole,  satisfied  me,  and  I waited  anxiously 
for  the  reply.  At  the  end  ^ five  days  the  answer  arrived.  It 
was  thus  : — 


3^4 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


44  ‘Dear  Mary, — You  have  chosen  your  own  path  in  life,  and 
having  done  so,  I have  neither  the  right  nor  inclination  to  inter- 
fere with  your  decision ; I shall  neither  receive  you,  nor  the 
person  you  have  made  your  husband  ; and  to  prevent  any  further 
disappointment,  inform  you,  that,  as  I leave  this  to-morrow,  any 
future  letters  you  might  think  proper  to  address,  will  not  reach, 

“ 4 Yours  very  faithfully, 

“ 4 C.  Kamworth. 

“ 4 Hydrabad  Cottage/ 

44  This  was  a tremendous  coup,  and  not  in  the  least  anticipated 
by  either  of  us ; upon  me  the  effect  was  stunning,  knowing,  as  I 
did,  that  our  fast-diminishing  finances  were  nearly  expended. 
Mary,  on  the  other  hand,  who  neither  knew  nor  thought  of  the 
exchequer,  rallied  at  once  from  her  depression,  and  after  a hearty 
fit  of  crying,  dried  her  eyes,  and  putting  her  arm  round  my  neck, 
said, — 

“ 4 Well,  Jack,  I must  only  love  you  the  more,  since  papa  will 
not  share  any  of  my  affection/ 

“ ‘ I wish  he  would  his  purse  though/  muttered  I as  I pressed 
her  in  my  arms,  and  strove  to  seem  perfectly  happy. 

“ I shall  not  prolong  my  story  by  dwelling  upon  the  agitation 
this  letter  cost  me ; however,  I had  yet  a hundred  pounds  left, 
and  an  aunt  in  Harley  Street,  with  whom  I had  always  been  a 
favorite.  This  thought,  the  only  rallying  one  I possessed,  saved 
me  for  the  time ; and  as  fretting  was  never  my  forte,  I never  let 
Mary  perceive  that  anything  had  gone  wrong,  and  managed  so 
well  in  this  respect,  that  my  good  spirits  raised  hers,  and  we  set 
out  for  London  one  fine  sunshiny  morning  as  happy  a looking 
couple  as  ever  travelled  the  north  road. 

44  When  we  arrived  at  the  4 Clarendon/  my  first  care  was  to 
get  into  a cab,  and  drive  to  Harley  Street.  I rang  the  bell ; 
and  not  waiting  to  ask  if  my  aunt  was  at  home,  I dashed  up  stairs 
to  the  drawing-room ; in  I bolted,  and  instead  of  the  precise  old 
Lady  Lilford,  sitting  at  her  embroidery,  with  her  fat  poodle  be- 
side her,  beheld  a strapping-looking  fellow,  with  a black  mus- 
tache, making  fierce  love  to  a young  lady  on  a sofa  beside  him. 

44  4 Why,  how  is  this — I really — there  must  be  some  mistake 
here/  In  my  heart  I knew  that  such  doings  in  my  good  aunt’s 
dwelling  were  impossible. 

4 4 4 1 should  suspect  there  is,  sir/  drawled  out  he  of  the  mus- 
tache, as  he  took  a very  cool  survey  of  me  through  his  glass. 

44  4 Is  Lady  Lilford  at  home,  may  I ask  ? ’ said  I,  in  a very 
apologetic  tone  of  voice. 

44  4 1 haven’t  the  honor  of  her  ladyship’s  acquaintance/  re- 


JACK  WALLER'S  STORY.  385 

plied  he,  in  a lisp,  evidently  enjoying  my  perplexity,  which  was 
every  moment  becoming  more  evident. 

44  4 But  this  is  her  house/  said  I,  4 at  least ’ 

“ 4 Lady  Lilford  is  at  Paris,  sir/  said  the  young  lady,  who  now 
spoke  for  the  first  time.  4 Papa  has  taken  the  house  for  the 
season,  and  that  may  perhaps  account  for  your  mistake/ 

“ What  I muttered  by  way  of  apology  for  my  intrusion,  I 
know  not ; but  I stammered — the  young  lady  blushed — the 
beau  chuckled,  and  turned  to  the  window,  and  when  I found 
myself  in  the  street,  I scarcely  knew  whether  to  laugh  at  my  blun- 
der, or  curse  my  disappointment. 

“ The  next  morning  I called  upon  my  aunt’s  lawyer,  and  hav- 
ing obtained  her  address  in  Paris,  sauntered  to  the  4 Junior 
Club/  to  write  her  a letter  before  post  hour.  As  I scanned 
over  the  morning  papers,  I could  not  help  smiling  at  the  flam- 
ing paragraph  which  announced  my  marriage  to  the  only  daugh- 
ter and  heiress  of  the  millionaire  Colonel  Kamworth.  Not 
well  knowing  how  to  open  the  correspondence  with  my  worthy 
relative,  I folded  the  paper  containing  the  news,  and  addressed 
it  to  4 Lady  Lilford,  Hotel  de  Bristol,  Paris.’ 

“When  I arrived  at  the  4 Clarendon,’  I found  my  wife  and 
her  maid  surrounded  by  cases  and  bandboxes ; laces,  satins, 
and  velvets  were  displayed  on  all  sides,  while  an  emissary  from 
4 Storr  and  Mortimer  ’ was  arranging  a grand  review  of  jewellery 
on  a side-table,  one  half  of  which  would  have  ruined  the  Rajah 
of  Mysore  to  purchase.  My  advice  was  immediately  called 
into  requisition  ; and  pressed  into  service,  I had  nothing  left 
for  it  but  to  canvass,  criticize,  and  praise,  between  times,  which  I 
did  with  a good  grace,  considering  that  I anticipated  the  4 Fleet  ’ 
for  every  flounce  of  Valenciennes  lace  ; and  could  not  help  as- 
sociating a rich  diamond  aigrette  with  hard  labor  for  life  and 
the  climate  of  New  South  Wales.  The  utter  abstraction  I was 
in  led  to  some  awkward  contretemps,  and  as  my  wife’s  enthu- 
siasm for  her  purchases  increased  so  did  my  reverie  gain  ground. 

44  4 Is  it  not  beautiful,  Jack  ? how  delicately  worked  ! it  must 
have  taken  a long  time  to  do  it.’ 

44  4 Seven  years/  I muttered,  as  my  thoughts  ran  upon  a very 
different  topic. 

44  4 Oh,  no,  not  so  much/  said  she,  laughing;  4 and  it  must  be 
such  a hard  thing  to  do.’ 

44  4 Not  half  so  hard  as  carding  wool,  or  pounding  oyster 
shells.’ 

44  4 How  absurd  you  are  ! Well,  I’ll  take  this,  it  will  look  so 
well  in ’ 

“ 4 Botany  Bay/  said  I?  with  a sigh  that  set  all  the  party  laugh- 
25 


386 


HARRY  LORREQUER . 


in g,  which  at  last  roused  me,  and  enabled  me  to  join  in  the 
joke. 

44  As  at  length  one  half  of  the  room  became  filled  with  mil- 
linery, and  the  other  glittered  with  jewels  and  bijouterie , my  wife 
grew  weary  with  her  exertions,  and  we  found  ourselves  alone. 

“ When  I told  her  that  my  aunt  had  taken  up  her  residence 
in  Paris,  it  immediately  occurred  to  her  how  pleasant  it  would 
be  to  go  there  too ; and,  although  I concurred  in  the  opinion 
for  very  different  reasons,  it  was  at  length  decided  that  we 
should  do  so  ; and  the  only  difficulty  now  existed  as  to  the 
means,  as  though  the  daily  papers  teemed  with  4 four  ways  to  go 
from  London  to  Paris/  they  all  resolved  themselves  into  one, 
and  that  one,  unfortunately  to  me,  the  most  difficult  and  im- 
practicable— by  money. 

44  There  was,  however,  one  last  resource  open — the  sale  of  my 
commission.  I will  not  dwell  upon  what  it  cost  me  to  resolve 
upon  this — the  determination  was  a painful  one,  but  it  was  soon 
come  to,  and  before  five  o’clock  that  day,  Cox  and  Greenwood 
had  got  their  instructions  to  sell  out  for  me,  and  had  advanced 
a thousand  pounds  of  the  purchase.  Our  bill  settled,  the  wait- 
ers bowing  to  the  ground  (it  is  your  ruined  man  that  is  always 
the  most  liberal),  the  post-horses  harnessed,  and  impatient  for 
the  road,  I took  my  place  beside  my  wife,  while  my  valet  held  a 
parasol  over  the  soubrette  in  the  rumble — all  in  the  approved 
fashion  of  those  who  have  an  unlimited  credit  with  Coutts  or 
Drummond — the  whips  cracked,  the  leaders  capered,  and  bowing 
to  the  proprietor  of  the  4 Clarendon,’  away  we  rattled  to  Dover. 

44  After  the  usual  routine  of  sea-sickness,  fatigue,  and  poison- 
ous cookery,  we  reached  Paris  on  the  fifth  day,  and  put  up  at 
the  4 Hotel  de  Londres,’  Place  Vendome. 

44  To  have  an  adequate  idea  of  the  state  of  my  feelings  as  I 
trod  the  splendid  apartments  of  this  princely  hotel,  surrounded 
by  every  luxury  that  wealth  can  procure  or  taste  suggest,  you 
must  imagine  the  condition  of  a man  who  is  regaled  with  a sumpt- 
uous banquet  on  the  eve  of  his  execution.  The  inevitable  ter- 
mination to  all  my  present  splendor  was  never  for  a moment  ab- 
sent from  my  thoughts,  and  the  secrecy  with  which  I was  obliged 
to  conceal  my  feelings  formed  one  of  the  greatest  sources  of  my 
misery.  4 The  coup , when  it  does  come,  will  be  sad  enough,  and 
poor  Mary  may  as  well  have  the  comfort  of  the  deception  as 
long  as  it  lasts  without  suffering  as  I do.’  Such  was  the  rea- 
soning by  which  I met  every  resolve  to  break  to  her  the  real 
state  of  our  finances,  and  such  the  frame  of  mind  in  which  I 
spent  my  days  at  Paris,  the  only  really  unhappy  ones  I can 
ever  charge  my  memory  with. 


JACK  WALLER'S  STORY. 


387 


“ We  had  scarcely  got  settled  in  the  hotel,  when  my  aunt,  who 
inhabited  the  opposite  side  of  the  4 Place,’  came  over  to  see  us 
and  wish  us  joy.  She  had  seen  the  paragraph  in  the  Post,  and 
like  all  other  people  with  plenty  of  money,  fully  approved  a 
match  like  mine. 

“ She  was  delighted  with  Mary,  and  despite  the  natural  reserve 
of  the  old  maiden  lady,  became  actually  cordial,  and  invited  us 
to  dine  with  her  that  day,  and  every  succeeding  one  we  might 
feel  disposed  to  do  so.  £ So  far  so  well,’  thought  I,  as  I offered 
her  my  arm  to  see  her  home  ; 4 but  if  she  knew  of  what  value  even 
this  small  attention  is  to  us,  am  I quite  so  sure  she  would  offer 
it  ? However,  no  time  is  to  be  lost ; I cannot  live  in  this  state 
of  hourly  agitation  ; I must  make  some  one  the  confidant  of  my 
sorrows,  and  none  so  fit  as  she  who  can  relieve  as  well  as  ad- 
vise upon  them.’  Although  such  was  my  determination,  yet 
somehow  I could  not  pluck  up  courage  for  the  effort.  My  aunt’s 
congratulations  upon  my  good  luck  made  me  shrink  from  the 
avowal ; and  while  she  ran  on  upon  the  beauty  and  grace  of  my 
wife,  topics  I fully  concurred  in,  I almost  chimed  in  with  her 
satisfaction  at  the  prudential  and  proper  motives  which  led  to 
the  match.  Twenty  times  I was  on  the  eve  of  interrupting  her, 
and  saying,  4 But,  madam,  I am  a beggar,  my  wife  has  not  a shil- 
ling— I have  absolutely  nothing — her  father  disowns  us — my 
commission  is  sold,  and  in  three  weeks  the  44  Hotel  de  Londres  ” 
and  the  44  Palais  Royal  ” will  be  some  hundred  pounds  the  richer, 
and  I without  the  fare  of  a cab  to  drive  me  down  to  the  Seine 
to  drown  myself.’ 

44  Such  were  my  thoughts  ; but  whenever  I endeavored  to  speak 
them,  some  confounded  fulness  in  my  throat  nearly  choked  me  ; 
my  temples  throbbed,  my  hands  trembled,  and  whether  it  was 
shame,  or  the  sickness  of  despair,  I cannot  say,  but  the  words 
would  not  come,  and  all  that  I could  get  out  was  some  flattery 
of  my  wife’s  beauty,  or  some  vapid  eulogy  upon  my  own  clever- 
ness in  securing  such  a prize.  To  give  you  in  one  brief  sentence 
an  idea  of  my  state,  Harry,  know,  then,  that  though  loving  Mary 
with  all  my  heart  and  soul,  as  I felt  she  deserved  to  be  loved, 
fifty  times  a day  I would  have  given  my  life  itself  that  you  had 
been  the  successful  man  on  the  morning  I carried  her  off,  and 
that  Jack  Waller  was  once  more  a bachelor,  to  see  the  only 
woman  he  ever  loved  the  wife  of  another. 

44  But  this  is  growing  tedious,  Harry ; I must  get  over  the 
ground  faster.  Two  months  passed  over  at  Paris,  during  which 
we  continued  to  live  at  the  Londres,  giving  dinners,  soirees , de- 
jefiners,  with  the  prettiest  equipage  in  the  Champs  Elys«es  we 
were  quite  the  mode,  for  my  wife,  which  is  rare  enough  for  an 


388 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


Englishwoman,  knew  how  to  dress  herself.  Our  evening  parties 
were  the  most  distinguished  things  going,  and  if  1 were  capable 
of  partaking  of  any  pleasure  in  the  eclat,  I had  my  share, 
having  won  all  the  pigeonmatches  in  the  Bois  De  Boulogne, 
and  beat  Lord  Henry  Seymour  himself  in  a steeple-chase.  The 
continual  round  of  occupation  in  which  pleasure  involves  a man 
is  certainly  its  greatest  attraction — reflection  is  impossible — the 
present  is  too  full  to  admit  any  of  the  past,  and  very  little  of 
the  future  ; and  even  I,  with  all  my  terrors  awaiting  me,  began 
to  feel  a half  indifference  to  the  result  in  the  manifold  cares  of 
my  then  existence.  To  this  state  of  fatalism,  for  such  it  was  be- 
coming, had  I arrived,  when  the  vision  was  dispelled  in  a mo- 
ment by  a visit  from  my  aunt,  who  came  to  say,  that  some  bus- 
iness requiring  her  immediate  presence  in  London,  she  was  to 
set  out  that  evening,  but  hoped  to  find  us  in  Paris  on  her  return. 
I was  thunderstruck  at  the  news,  although  as  yet  I had  obtained 
no  manner  of  assistance  from  the  old  lady,  yet  I felt  that  her  very 
presence  was  a kind  of  security  to  us,  and  that  in  every  sudden 
emergency  she  was  there  to  apply  to.  My  money  was  nearly 
expended,  the  second  and  last  instalment  of  my  commission 
was  all  that  remained,  and  much  of  even  that  I owed  to  trades- 
people. I now  resolved  to  speak  out.  ‘ The  worst  must  be 
known,’  thought  I,  ‘ in  a fev  days,  and  now  or  never  be  it.’  So 
saying,  I drew  my  aunt’s  arm  within  my  own,  and  telling  her  that 
I wished  a few  minutes’  conversation  alone,  led  her  to  one  of  the 
less  frequented  walks  of  the  Tuileries  gardens.  When  we  had 
got  sufficiently  far  to  be  removed  from  all  listeners,  I began  thus  : 
‘ My  dearest  aunt,  what  I have  suffered  in  concealing  from  you 
so  long  the  subject  of  my  present  confession,  will  plead  as  my 
excuse  in  not  making  you  sooner  my  confidante.’  When  I had 
got  thus  far,  the  agitation  of  my  aunt  was  such  that  I could  not 
venture  to  say  more  for  a minute  or  two.  At  length  she  said,  in 
a kind  of  hurried  whisper,  ‘Go  on  ; ’ and  although  then  I would 
have  given  all  I possessed  in  the  world  to  have  continued,  I could 
not  speak  a word. 

“‘Dear  John,  what  is  it? — anything  about  Mary?  For 
Heaven’s  sake,  speak.’ 

“‘Yes,  dearest  aunt,  it  is  about  Mary,  and  entirely  about 
Mary.’ 

“ ‘ Ah,  dear  me,  I feared  it  long  since  ; but  then,  John,  consider 
she  is  very  handsome — very  much  admired — and ’ 

“ ‘ That  makes  it  all  the  heavier,  my  dear  aunt ; the  prouder 
her  present  position,  the  more  severely  will  she  feel  the  reverse/ 

“‘Oh,  but  surely,  John,  your  fears  musr  exaggerate  the 
danger,’ 


JACK  WALLER'S  STORY. 


389 


Nothing  of  the  kind — I have  not  words  to  tell  you/ 

“ 4 Oh  dear,  oh  dear,  don’t  say  so,’  said  the  old  lady,  blushing  ; 
•for,  though  I have  often  remarked  a kind  of  gay  flirting  man- 
ner she  has  with  men,  I am  sure  she  means  nothing  by  it — she 
is  so  young — and  so ’ 

“ I stopped,  stepped  forward,  and  looking  straight  in  my  aunt’s 
face,  broke  out  into  a fit  of  laughter,  that  she,  mistaking  for  hys- 
terical from  its  violence,  nearly  fainted  upon  the  spot. 

“ As  soon  as  I could  sufficiently  recover  gravity  to  explain  to 
my  aunt  her  mistake,  I endeavored  to  do  so ; but  so  ludicrous 
was  the  contretemps , and  so  ashamed  the  old  lady  for  her  gratu- 
itous suspicions,  that  she  would  not  listen  to  a word,  and  begged 
me  to  return  to  her  hotel.  Such  an  unexpected  turn  to  my  com- 
munication routed  all  my  plans ; and  after  a very  awkward  si- 
lence of  some  minutes  on  both  sides,  I mumbled  something 
about  her  expensive  habits  of  life,  costly  equipage,  number  of 
horses,  etc.,  and  hinted  at  the  propriety  of  retrenchment. 

44 4 Mary  rides  beautifully,’  said  my  aunt,  dryly. 

44  4 Yes  ; but,  my  dear  aunt,  it  was  not  exactly  of  that  I was  go- 
ing to  speak,  for  in  fact ’ 

44  4 Oh,  John,’  said  she,  interrupting,  4 1 know  your  delicacy  too 
well  to  suspect ; but,  in  fact,  I have  myself  perceived  what  you 
allude  to,  and  wished  very  much  to  have  some  conversation  with 
you  on  the  subject.’ 

44  4 Thank  God  ! ’ said  I to  myself,  4 at  length  we  understand 
each  other,  and  the  ice  is  broken  at  last.’ 

44  4 Indeed,  I think  I have  anticipated  your  wish  in  the  matter  ; 
but  as  time  presses,  and  I must  look  after  all  my  packing,  I shall 
say  good-by  for  a few  weeks;  and  in  the  evening,  Jepson,  who 
stays  here,  will  bring  you  what  I mean  over  to  your  hotel.  Once 
more,  then,  good-by  ! ’ 

44  4 Good-by,  my  dearest,  kindest  friend ! ’ said  I,  taking  a 
most  tender  adieu  of  the  old  lady.  4 What  an  excellent  creature 
she  is  ! ’ said  I,  half  aloud,  as  I turned  towards  home  ; 4 how 
considerate,  how  truly  kind,  to  spare  me,  too,  all  the  pain  of  ex- 
planation. Now  I begin  to  breathe  once  more.  If  there  be  a 
flask  of  Johannisberg  in  the  44  Londres,”  I’ll  drink  your  health 
this  day,  and  so  shall  Mary.’  So  saying,  I entered  the  hotel  with 
a lighter  heart  and  a firmer  step  than  ever  it  had  been  my  fortune 
to  do  h-itherto. 

44  4 We  shall  miss  the  old  lady,  I’m  sure,  Mary,  she  is  so  kind/ 

44  4 Oh  ! indeed  she  is  ; but  then,  John,  she  is  such  a prude/ 

44  Now  I could  not  help  recurring  in  my  mind  to  some  of  the 
conversation  in  the  Tuileries  gardens,  and  did  not  feel  exactly 
at  ease. 


39° 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


44  4 Such  a prude,  and  so  very  old-fashioned  in  her  notions.’ 

“ 4 Yes,  Mary,’  said  I,  with  more  gravity  than  she  was  pre- 
pared for,  ‘she  is  a prude  ; but  I am  not  certain  that  in  foreign 
society,  where  less  liberties  are  tolerated  than  in  our  country,  if 
such  a bearing  be  not  wiser.’  What  I was  going  to  plunge  into, 
Heaven  knows,  for  the  waiter  entered  at  the  moment,  and  pre- 
senting me  with  a large  and  carefully-sealed  package,  said,  4 De 
le  part  de  Miladi  Lilfore.’  4 But  stay,  here  comes,  if  I am  not 
mistaken,  a better  eulogy  upon  my  dear  aunt  than  any  I can 
pronounce.’ 

44  4 How  heavy  it  is,’  said  I to  myself,  balancing  the  parcel  in 
my  hand.  4 There  is  no  answer,’  said  I aloud  to  the  waiter,  who 
stood  as  if  expecting  one. 

44  4 The  servant  wishes  to  have  some  acknowledgment  in  writ- 
ing, sir,  that  it  has  been  delivered  into  your  own  hands.’ 

44  4 Send  him  here,  then,’  said  I. 

44  Jepson  entered.  4 Well,  George,  your  parcel  is  all  right,  and 
here  is  a napoleon  to  drink  my  health.’ 

44  Scarcely  had  the  servants  left  the  room,  when  Mary,  whose 
curiosity  was  fully  aroused,  rushed  over,  and  tried  to  get  the 
packet  from  me.  After  a short  struggle,  I yielded,  and  she  flew 
to  the  end  of  the  room,  and  tearing  open  the  seals,  several  pa- 
pers fell  to  the  ground.  Before  I could  have  time  to  snatch 
them  up,  she  had  read  some  lines  written  on  the  envelope,  and, 
turning  towards  me,  threw  her  arms  around  my  neck,  and  said, 

4 Yes,  Jack,  she  is  indeed  all  you  have  said.  Look  here!’  I 
turned  and  read,  with  what  feeling  I leave  to  you  to  guess,  the 
following : — 

44  4 Dear  Nephew  and  Niece, — The  enclosed  will  convey  to 
you,  with  my  warmest  wishes  for  your  happiness,  a ticket  on  the 
Frankfort  Lottery,  of  which  I enclose  the  scheme.  I also  take 
the  opportunity  of  saying  that  I have  purchased  the  Hungarian 
pony  for  Mary,  which  we  spoke  of  this  morning.  It  is  at  John- 
ston’s stable,  and  will  be  delivered  on  sending  for  it.” 

44  4 Think  of  that,  Jack — the  Borghese  pony,  with  the  silky  tail, 
mine  ! Oh,  what  a dear,  good  old  soul ! it  was  the  very  thing  of 
all  others  I longed  for,  for  they  told  me  the  princess  had  refused 
every  offer  for  it.’ 

44  While  Mary  ran  on  in  this  strain,  I sat  mute  and  stupefied  ; 
the  sudden  reverse  my  hopes  had  sustained  deprived  me  for  a 
moment  of  all  thought,  and  it  was  several  minutes  before  I could 
rightly  take  in  the  full  extent  of  my  misfortunes. 

44  How  that  crazy  old  maid — for  such,  alas  ! I called  her  to 


JACK  WALLER'S  STORK 


39* 


myself  now — could  have  so  blundered  all  my  meaning — how  she 
could  so  palpably  have  mistaken — I could  not  conceive.  What 
a remedy  for  a man  overwhelmed  with  debt — a ticket  in  a Ger- 
man lottery,  and  a cream-colored  pony,  as  if  my  whole  life  had 
not  been  one  continued  lottery  with  every  day  a blank ; and  as 
to  horses,  I had  eleven  in  my  stables  already.  Perhaps  she 
thought  twelve  would  read  better  in  my  schedule,  when  I,  next 
week,  surrendered  as  insolvent. 

“ Unable  to  bear  the  delight,  the  childish  delight  of  Mary,  on 
her  new  acquisition,  I rushed  out  of  the  house,  and  wandered 
for  several  hours  on  the  Boulevards.  At  last  I summoned  up 
courage  to  tell  my  wife.  I once  more  turned  towards  home,  and 
entered  her  dressing-room,  where  she  was  having  her  hair  dressed 
for  a ball  at  the  Embassy.  My  resolution  failed  me  : 4 Not 
now ; ’ thought  I,  4 to-morrow  will  do  as  well — one  night  more 

of  happiness  for  her,  and  then ’ I looked  on  with  pleasure 

and  pride,  as  ornament  after  ornament,  brilliant  with  diamonds 
and  emeralds,  shone  in  her  hair  and  upon  her  arms,  still  height- 
ening her  beauty,  and  lighting  up  with  a dazzling  brilliancy  her 
lovely  figure.  4 But  then  it  must  come,  and  whenever  the  hour 
arrives,  the  reverse  will  be  fully  as  bitter  ; besides,  I am  able 
now,  and  when  I may  again  be  so,  who  can  tell  ? Now  then  be 
it/  said  I as  I told  the  waiting-maid  to  retire  ; and  taking  a chair 
beside  my  wife,  put  my  arm  round  her. 

44  ‘There,  John,  dearest,  take  care  ; don’t  you  see  you’ll  crush 
all  that  great  affair  of  Malines  lace,  and  Rosetta  has  been  break- 
ing her  heart  to  manage  this  half  hour.’ 

44  4 Et  puis  ? ’ said  I. 

44  4 Et  puis,  I could  not  go  to  the  ball,  naughty  boy.  I am 
bent  on  great  conquest  to-night ; so  pray  don’t  mar  such  good 
intentions.’ 

44  4 And  would  be  greatly  disappointed  were  you  not  to  go?  ’ 

44  4 Of  course  I should.  But  what  do  you  mean  ? is  there  any 
reason  why  I should  not?  You  are  silent,  John;  speak — oh 
speak — has  anything  occurred  to  my ’ 

44  4 No,  no,  dearest — nothing  that  I know  has  occurred  to  the 
colonel.’ 

44  4 Well,  then,  who  is  it  ? Oh,  tell  me  at  once.’ 

44  4 Oh,  my  dear,  there  is  no  one  in  the  case  but  ourselves.’ 
So  saying,  despite  the  injunction  about  the  lace,  I drew  ler 
towards  me,  and  in  as  few  words,  but  as  clearly  as  I was  able, 
explained  all  our  circumstances — my  endeavor  to  better  them — 
my  hopes — my  fears — and  now  my  bitter  disappointment,  if  not 
despair. 

44  The  first  shock  over,  Mary  showed  not  only  more  courage, 


392 


HARRY  L ORREQUER. 


but  more  sound  sense  than  I could  have  believed.  All  the 
frivolity  of  her  former  character  vanished  at  the  first  touch  of 
adversity  ; just  as  of  old,  Harry,  we  left  the  tinsel  of  our  gay 
jackets  behind,  when  active  service  called  upon  us  for  some- 
thing more  sterling.  She  advised,  counselled,  and  encouraged 
me  by  turns ; and  in  half  an  hour  the  most  poignant  regret  I 
had  was  in  not  having  sooner  made  her  my  confidante,  and 
checked  the  progress  of  our  enormous  expenditure  somewhat 
earlier. 

“ I shall  not  detain  you  much  longer.  In  three  weeks  we 
had  sold  our  carriages  and  horses,  our  pictures  (we  had  begun 
this  among  our  extravagances),  soon  after  our  china  followed, 
and  under  the  plea  of  ill-health  set  out  for  Baden,  not  one 
among  our  Paris  acquaintances  ever  suspecting  the  real  reason 
of  our  departure,  and  never  attributing  any  pecuniary  difficulties 
to  us — for  we  paid  our  debts. 

“ The  same  day  we  left  Paris  I despatched  a letter  to  my 
aunt,  explaining  fully  all  about  us,  and  suggesting  that,  as  I had 
now  left  the  army  forever,  perhaps  she  would  interest  some  of 
her  friends — and  she  had  powerful  ones — to  do  something  for 
me. 

“ After  some  little  loitering  on  the  Rhine,  we  fixed  upon 
Hesse  Cassel  for  our  residence.  It  was  very  quiet — very  cheap. 
The  country  around  picturesque,  and  last,  but  not  least,  there 
was  not  an  Englishman  in  the  neighborhood.  The  second 
week  after  our  arrival  brought  us  letters  from  my  aunt.  She 
had  settled  four  hundred  a year  upon  us  for  the  present,  and 
sent  the  first  year  in  advance  ; and,  pledging  herself  not  to  for- 
get when  an  opportunity  of  serving  me  should  offer,  promised 
us  a visit  as  soon  as  we  were  ready  to  receive  her. 

“From  that  moment  to  this, ” said  Jack,  “all  has  gone  well 
with  us.  We  have,  it  is  true,  not  many  luxuries,  but  we  have 
no  wants,  and,  better  still,  no  debts.  The  dear  old  aunt  is 
always  making  us  some  little  present  or  other,  and  somehow  I 
have  a kind  of  feeling  that  better  luck  is  still  in  store  ; but  faith, 
Harry,  as  long  as  I have  a happy  home,  and  a warm  fireside 
for  a friend  when  he  drops  in  upon  me,  I scarcely  can  say  that 
better  luck  need  be  wished  for.” 

“There  is  only  one  point,  Jack,  you  have  not  enlightened  me 
upon  ; how  came  you  here  ? You  are  some  hundred  miles  from 
Hesse  in  your  present  chateau.” 

“Oh!  by  Jove,  that  was  a great  omission  in  my  narrative  ; 
but  come,  this  will  explain  it ; see  here.”  So  saying,  he  drew 
from  a little  drawer  a large  lithographic  print  of  a magnificent 
castellated  building,  with  towers  and  bastions,  keep,  moat,  and 


MUNICH 


m 

even  drawbridge,  the  walls  bristling  with  cannon,  and  an  eagled 
banner  floating  proudly  above  them. 

“ What,  in  the  name  of  the  Sphynxes,  is  this  ? ” 

“ There, ” said  Jack,  “ is  the  Schloss  von  Eberhausen  ; or  if 
you  like  it  in  English,  Eberhausen  Castle,  as  it  was  in  the  year  of 
the  Deluge,  since  the  present  mansion  that  we  are  now  sipping 
our  wine  in  bears  no.  close  resemblance  to  it.  But  to  make  the 
mystery  clear,  this  was  the  great  prize  in  the  Frankfort  lottery, 
the  ticket  of  which  my  aunt’s  first  note  contained,  and  which  we 
were  fortunate  enough  to  win.  We  have  only  been  here  a few 
weeks,  and  though  the  affair  looks  somewhat  meagre,  we  have 
hopes  that  in  a little  time,  and  with  some  pains,  much  may  be 
done  to  make  it  habitable.  There  is  a capital  chasse  of  some 
hundred  acres ; plenty  of  wood  and  innumerable  rights,  seign- 
orial,  manorial,  etc.,  which  fortunately  for  my  neighbors,  I 
neither  understand  nor  care  for  ; and  we  are  therefore  the  best 
friends  in  the  world;  Among  others,  I am  styled  the  Graf  or 
Count ” 

“ Well,  then,  Monsieur  la  CorofA,”  said  his  wife,  coming  in, 
“ do  you  intend  favoring  me  with  your  company  at  coffee  this 
evening  ? for  already  it  is  ten  o’clock ; and  considering  my  for- 
mer claim  upon  Mr.  Lorrequer?  you  have  let  me  enjoy  very 
little  of  his 'society.” 

We  now  adjourned  to  the  drawing-room,  where  we  gossiped 
away  till  past  midnight ; and  I retired  to  my  room,  meditating 
over  Jack’s  adventures,  and  praying  in  my  heart,  that,  despite 
all  his  mischances,  my  own  might  end  as  happily. 


CHAPTER  LII. 

MUNICH. 

The  rest  and  quietness  of  the  preceding  day  had  so  far  recov- 
ered me  from  the  effects  of  my  accident,  that  I resolved,  as 
soon  as  breakfast  was  over,  to  take  leave  of  my  kind  friends,  and 
set  out  for  Munich. 

“We  shall  meet  to-night,  Harry,”  said  Waller,  as  we  parted 
— “ we  shall  meet  at  the  Casino — and  don’t  forget  that  the  Croix 
Blanche  is  your  hotel  ; and  Schnetz,  the  tailor,  in  the  Grande 
Place,  will  provide  you  with  everything  you  need  in  the  way  of 
dress.” 

This  latter  piece  of  information  was  satisfactory,  inasmuch  as 
the  greater  part  of  my  luggage,  containing  my  uniform,  etc.,  had 


394 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


been  left  in  the  French  diligence ; and  as  the  ball  was  patron* 
ized  by  the  Court,  I was  greatly  puzzled  how  to  make  my  ap- 
pearance. 

Bad  roads  and  worse  horses  made  me  feel  the  few  leagues 
before  me  the  most  tiresome  part  of  my  journey.  But,  of  course, 
in  this  feeling  impatience  had  its  share.  A few  hours  more, 
and  my  fate  would  de  decided  ; and  yet  I thought  the  time  would 
never  come.  “If  the  Callonbys  should  not  arrive — if,  again, 
my  evil  star  be  in  the  ascendant,  and  any  new  impediment  to 
our  meeting  arise — but  I cannot,  will  not  think  this — Fortune 
must  surely  be  tired  of  persecuting  me  by  this  time,  and,  even 
to  sustain  her  old  character  for  fickleness,  must  befriend  me  now. 
Ah  ! here  we  are  in  Munich — and  this  is  the  Croix  Blanche — 
what  a dingy  old  mansion ! ” Beneath  a massive  porch,  sup- 
ported by  heavy  stone  pillars,  stood  the  stout  figure  of  Andreas 
Behr,  the  host.  A white  napkin,  fastened  in  one  button-hole, 
and  hanging  gracefully  down  beside  him — a soup-ladle  held 
scept^e-wise  in  his  right  hand,  and  the  grinding  motion  of  his 
nether  jaw,  all  showed  that  he  had  risen  from  his  table  d'hote 
to  welcome  the  new  arrival;  and  certainly,  if  noise  and  uproar 
might  explain  the  phenomenon,  the  clatter  of  my  equipage  over 
the  pavement  might  have  roused  the  dead. 

While  my  postilion  was  endeavoring,  by  mighty  efforts,  with 
a heavy  stone,  to  turn  the  handle  of  the  door,  and  thus  liberate 
me  from  my  cage,  I perceived  that  the  host  came  forward  and 
said  something  to  him — on  replying  to  which,  he  ceased  his  en- 
deavors to  open  the  door,  and  looked  vacantly  about  him.  Upon 
this  I threw  down  the  sash,  and  called  out, — 

“ I say,  is  not  this  the  Croix  Branche  ? ” 

“ Ja,”  said  the  man-mountain  with  the  napkin. 

“ Well,  then,  open  the  door,  pray — I’m  going  to  stop  here.” 

“ Nein.” 

“ No  ! What  do  you  mean  by  that  ? Has  not  Lord  Callonby 
engaged  rooms  here  ? ” 

“Ja.” 

“ Well,  then,  I am  a particular  friend  of  his,  and  will  stay  here 
too.” 

“ Nein.” 

“What  the  devil  are  you  at,  with  your  Ja  and  Nein ? ” said  I. 
“ Has  your  confounded  tongue  nothing  better  than  a monosylla- 
ble to  reply  with  ? ” 

Whether  disliking  the  tone  the  controversy  was  assuming,  or 
remembering  that  his  dinner  waited,  I know  not,  but  at  these 
words  my  tat  friend  turned  leisurely  round,  and  waddled  back 
into  the  house ; where,  in  a moment  after,  I had  the  pleasure  of 


MUNICH. 


395 


beholding  him  at  the  head  of  a long  table,  distributing  viands 
with  a very  different  degree  of  activity  from  what  he  displayed 
in  dialogue. 

With  one  vigorous  jerk  I dashed  open  the  door,  upsetting,  at 
the  same  time,  the  poor  postilion,  who  had  recommenced  his  op- 
erations on  the  lock,  and,  foaming  with  passion,  strode  into 
the  salle  a manger . Nothing  is  such  an  immediate  damper  to 
any  sudden  explosion  of  temper,  as  the  placid  and  unconcerned 
faces  of  a number  of  people,  who,  ignorant  of  yourself  and  your 
peculiar  miseries  at  the  moment,  seem  only  to  regard  you  as  a 
madman.  This  I felt  strongly,  as,  flushed  in  face  and  tingling 
in  my  fingers,  I entered  the  room. 

“Take  my  luggage,”  said  I to  a gaping  waiter,  “ and  place  a 
chair  there,  do  you  hear  ? ” 

There  seemed,  I suppose,  something  in  my  looks  that  did  not 
admit  of  much  parley,  for  the  man  made  room  for  me  at  once 
at  the  table,  and  left  the  room,  as  if  to  discharge  the  other  part 
of  my  injunction,  without  saying  a word.  As  I arranged  my 
napkin  before  me,  I was  collecting  my  energies  and  my  Ger- 
man, as  well  as  I was  able,  for  the  attack  of  the  host,  which,  I 
anticipated  from  his  recent  conduct,  must  now  ensue ; but, 
greatly  to  my  surprise,  he  sent  me  my  soup  without  a word,  and 
the  dinner  went  on  without  any  interruption.  When  the  dessert 
had  made  its  appearance,  I beckoned  the  waiter  towards  me, 
and  asked  what  the  landlord  meant  by  his  singular  reception  of 
me.  The  man  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  raised  his  eyebrows 
without  speaking,  as  if  to  imply,  “ it’s  his  way.” 

“Well,  then,  no  matter,”  said  I.  “Have  you  sent  my  lug- 
gage up  stairs  ? ” 

“ No,  sir,  there  is  no  room — the  house  is  full.” 

“ The  house  full  ! Confound  it — this  is  too  provoking.  I 
have  most  urgent  reasons  for  wishing  to  stay  here.  Cannot 
you  make  some  arrangement — see  about  it,  waiter.”  I here 
slipped  a napoleon  into  the  fellow’s  hand,  and  hinted  that  as 
much  more  awaited  the  finale  of  the  negotiation. 

In  about  a minute  after,  I perceived  him  behind  the  host’s 
chair  pleading  my  cause  with  considerable  energy  ; but  to  my 
complete  chagrin  I heard  the  other  answer  all  his  eloquence  by 
a loud  “ Nein,”  that  he  grunted  out  in  such  a manner  as  closed 
the  conference. 

“ I cannot  succeed,  sir,”  said  the  man,  as  he  passed  behind 
me,  “ but  don’t  leave  the  house  till  I speak  with  you  again.” . 

“ What  confounded  mystery  is  there  in  all  this  ? ” thought  I. 
“ Is  there  anything  so  suspicious  in  my  look  or  appearance,  that 
the  old  bear  in  the  fur  cap  will  not  even  admit  me  ? What  can 


396 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


it  all  mean  ? One  thing  I’m  resolved  upon — nothing  less  than 
force  shall  remove  me.” 

So  saying,  I lit  my  cigar,  and  in  order  to  <give  the  waiter  an 
opportunity  of  conferring  with  me  unobserved  by  his  master, 
walked  out  into  the  porch  and  sat  down. 

In  a few  minutes  he  joined  me,  and  after  a stealthy  look  on 
each  side,  said, — 

“The  Herr  Andreas  is  a hard  man  to  deal  with,  and  when  he 
says  a thing,  never  goes  back  of  it.  Now  he  has  been  expect- 
ing the  new  English  Charge'  d’Affaires  here  these  last  ten  days, 
and  has  kept  the  hotel  half  empty  in  consequence ; and  as  Mi- 
lor  Callonby  has  engaged  the  other  half,  why  we  have  nothing 
to  do  ; so  that  when  he  asked  the  postilion  if  you  were  not  mi- 
lor,  and  found  that  you  were  not,  he  determined  not  to  admit 
you.” 

“ But  why  not  have  the  civility  to  explain  that  ? ” 

“ He  seldom  speaks  ; and  when  he  does,  only  a word  or  two 
at  a time.  He  is  quite  tired  with  what  he  has  gone  through  to- 
day, and  will  retire  very  early  to  bed  ; and  for  this  reason  I have 
requested  you  to  remain,  for  as  he  never  ventures  up  stairs,  I 
will  then  manage  to  give  you  one  of  the  ambassador’s  rooms, 
which,  even  if  he  come,  he’ll  never  miss.  So  that  if  you  keep 
quiet,  and  do  not  attract  any  particular  attention  towards  you, 
all  will  go  well.” 

This  advice  seemed  so  reasonable,  that  1 determined  to  fol- 
low it,  any  inconvenience  being  preferable,  provided  I could  be 
under  the  same  roof  with  my  beloved  Jane  ; and  from  the  wait- 
er’s account,  there  seemed  no  doubt  whatever  of  their  arrival 
that  evening.  In  order,  therefore,  to  follow  his  injunctions  to 
the  letter,  I strolled  out  toward  the  Place  in  search  of  the  tailor, 
and  also  to  deliver  a letter  from  Waller  to  the  chamberlain,  to 
provide  me  with  a card  for  the  ball.  Monsieur  Schnetz,  who 
was  the  very  pinnacle  of  politeness,  was  nevertheless,  in  fact, 
nearly  as  untractable  as  my  host  of  the  “ Cross.”  All  his  peo- 
ple were  engaged  in  preparing  a suit  for  the  English  Charge 
d’Affaires,  whose  trunks  had  been  sent  in  a wrong  direction,  and 
who  had  despatched  a courier  from  Frankfort  to  order  a uniform. 
This  second  thwarting,  and  from  the  same  source,  so  nettled 
me,  that  I greatly  fear  all  my  respect  for  the  Foreign  Office, 
and  those  who  live  thereby,  would  not  have  saved  them  from 
something  most  unlike  a blessing,  had  not  Monsieur  Schnetz 
saved  diplomacy  from  such  desecration  by  saying,  that  if  I could 
Content  myself  with  a plain  suit,  such  as  civilians  wore,  he 
would  do  his  endeavor  to  accommodate  me. 

“ Anything,  Monsieur  Schnetz  ; dress  me  like  the  Pope’s 


INN  A T MUNICH. 


39  7 


Nuncio,  or  the  Lord  Mayor  of  London,  if  you  like,  but  only 
enable  me  to  go.” 

Although  my  reply  did  not  seem  to  convey  a very  exalted  idea 
of  my  taste  in  costume  to  the  worthy  artist,  it  at  least  evinced 
my  anxiety  for  the  ball  ; and  running  his  measure  over  me,  he 
assured  me  that  the  dress  he  would  provide  was  both  well-look- 
ing  and  becoming  ; adding,  “ At  nine  o’clock,  sir,  you’ll  have  it, 
exactly  the  same  size  as  his  Excellency  the  Charge  d’Affaires.” 

“ Confound  the  Charge  d’Affaires ! ” I added,  and  left  the 
house. 


CHAPTER  LIII. 

INN  AT  MUNICH. 

As  I had  never  been  in  Munich  before,  I strolled  about  the 
town  till  dusk.  At  that  time  the  taste  of  the  King  had  not  en- 
riched the  capital  with  the  innumerable  objects  of  art  which  ren- 
der it  now  second  to  none  in  Europe.  There  were,  indeed,  then 
but  few  attractions — narrow  streets,  tall,  unarchitectural-looking 
houses,  and  gloomy,  unimpressive  churches.  Tired  of  this,  I 
turned  towards  my  inn,  wondering  in  my  mind  if  Antoine  had 
succeeded  in  procuring  me  the  room,  or  whether  I should  be 
obliged  to  seek  my  lodging  elsewhere.  Scarcely  had  I entered 
the  porch,  when  I found  him  awaiting  my  arrival,  candle  in 
hand.  He  conducted  me  at  once  up  the  wide  oaken  stair,  then 
along  the  gallery,  into  a large  wainscoted  room,  with  a most  ca- 
pacious bed.  A cheerful  wood  fire  burned  and  crackled  away 
in  the  grate — the  cloth  was  already  spread  for  supper — (remem- 
ber it  was  in  Germany) — the  newspapers  of  the  day  were  placed 
before  me  ; and,  in  a word,  every  attention  showed  that  I had 
found  the  true  avenue  to  Antoine’s  good  graces,  who  now  stood 
bowing  before  me,  in  apparent  ecstasy  at  his  own  cleverness. 

“ All  very  well  done,  Antoine  ; and  now  for  supper.  Order  it 
yourself  for  me;  I never  can  find  my  way  in  a German  Speiss- 
carte  ; and  be  sure  to  have  a fiacreYizxe.  at  nine — nine  precisely.” 

Antoine  withdrew,  leaving  me  to  my  own  reflections,  which 
now,  if  not  gloomy,  were  still  of  the  most  anxious  kind. 

Scarcely  was  the  supper  placed  upon  the  table,  when  a tre- 
mendous tramping  of  horses  along  the  street,  and  loud  cracking 
of  whips,  announced  a new  arrival. 

“ Here  they  are  ! ” said  I,  as,  springing  up,  I upset  the  soup, 
and  nearly  threw  the  roti  info  Antoine’s  face,  as  he  was  putting 
it  before  me. 


398 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


Down  stairs  I rushed  through  the  hall,  pushing  aside  waiters 
and  overturning  chambermaids  in  my  course.  The  carriage  was 
already  at  the  door.  “ Now  for  a surprise,”  thought  I,  as  I 
worked  through  the  crowd  in  the  porch,  and  reached  the  door 
just  as  the  steps  were  clattered  down,  and  a gentleman  began 
to  descend,  whom  twenty  expectant  voices,  now  informed  of  his 
identity,  welcomed  as  the  new  Charge  d’Affaires. 

“ May  all  the ” 

What  I wished  for  his  Excellency  it  would  not  be  polite  to  re- 
peat, nor  most  discreet  even  to  remember  ; but,  certes,  I mounted 
the  stairs  with  as  little  goodwill  towards  the  envoy  extraordinary 
as  was  consistent  with  due  loyalty. 

When  once  more  in  my  room,  I congratulated  myself  that 
now  at  least  no  more  “false  starts”  could  occur  : “ The  eter- 

nal Charge  d’Affaires,  of  whom  I have  been  hearing  since  my 
arrival,  cannot  come  twice.  He  is  here  now,  and  I hope  I’ve 
done  with  him.” 

The  supper — some  greasiness  apart — was  good  ; the  wine  ex- 
cellent. My  spirits  were  gradually  rising,  and  I paced  my  room 
in  that  mingled  state  of  hope  and  fear,  that,  amid  all  its  anxie- 
ties, has  such  moments  of  ecstasy.  A new  noise  without — some 
rabble  in  the  street ; hark  ! it  comes  nearer — I hear  the  sound 
of  wheels  ; yes,  there  go  the  horses — nearer  and  nearer.  Ah, 
it  is  dying  away  again — stay — yes,  yes,  here  it  is,  here  they 
are  ! The  noise  and  tumult  without  now  increased  every  in- 
stant ; the  heavy  trot  of  six  or  eight  horses  shook  the  very 
street,  and  I heard  the  round,  dull,  rumbling  sound  of  a heavy 
carriage,  as  it  drew  up  at  last  at  the  door  of  the  inn.  Why  it 
was,  I know  not,  but  this  time  I could  not  stir  ; my  heart  beat 
almost  loud  enough  for  me  to  hear;  my  temples  throbbed,  and 
then  a cold  and  clammy  perspiration  came  over  me,  and  I sank 
into  a chair.  Fearing  that  I was  about  to  faint,  sick  as  I was, 
I felt  angry  with  myself,  and  tried  to  rally,  but  could  not,  and 
only  at  length  was  roused  by  hearing  that  the  steps  were  let 
down,  and  shortly  after,  the  tread  of  feet  coming  along  the  gal- 
lery towards  my  room. 

“ They  are  coming — she  is  coming,”  thought  I.  “ Now  then 
for  my  doom  ! ” 

There  was  some  noise  of  voices  outside.  I listened,  for  I still 
felt  unable  to  rise.  The  talking  grew  louder — doors  were  opened 
and  shut — then  came  a lull — then  more  slamming  of  doors  and 
more  talking — then  all  was  still  again — and  at  last  I heard  the 
steps  of  people  as  if  retiring,  and  in  a few  minutes  after,  the 
carriage  door  was  jammed  to,  and  again  the  heavy  tramp  of  the 
horses  rattled  over  the  pave.  At  this  instant  Antoine  entered. 


INN  A T MUNICH. 


399 


“ Well,  Antoine, ” said  I,  in  a voice  trembling  with  weakness 
and  agitation — “ well,  who  has  arrived  ? ” 

“ It  was  his  Grace  the  Grand  Marechal,”  said  Antoine,  scarcely 
heeding  my  question,  in  the  importance  of  the  illustrious  visitor 
who  had  come. 

“ Ah,  the  Grand  Marechal,”  said  I,  carelessly ; “ does  he  live 
here  ? ” 

“ Sappermint  nein,  Mein  Herr;  but  he  has  just  been  to  pay 
his  respects  to  his  Excellency  the  new  Charge  d’Affaires.” 

In  the  name  of  all  patience,  I ask,  who  could  endure  this? 
From  the  hour  of  my  arrival  I am  haunted  by  this  one  image — 
the  Charge  d’Affaires.  For  him  I have  been  almost  condemned 
to  go  houseless,  and  naked  ; and  now  the  most  sacred  feelings  of 
my  heart  are  subject  to  his  influence.  I walked  up  and  down  in 
an  agony.  “ Another  such  disappointment,  and  my  brain  will 
turn,”  thought  I,  “ and  they  may  write  my  epitaph — ‘ Died  of 
love  and  a Charge  d’Affaires.’  ” 

“ It  is  time  to  dress,”  said  the  waiter. 

“ I could  strangle  him  with  my  own  hands,”  muttered  I, 
worked  up  into  a real  heat  by  the  excitement  of  my  passion. 

“ The  Charge ” 

“ Say  that  name  again,  villain,  and  I’ll  blow  your  brains  out,” 
cried  I,  seizing  Antoine  by  the  throat,  and  pinning  him  against 
the  wall ; “ only  dare  to  mutter  it,  and  you’ll  never  breathe  an- 
other syllable.” 

The  poor  fellow  grew  green  with  terror,  and  fell  upon  his 
knees  before  me. 

“ Get  my  dressing  things  ready,”  said  I,  in  a more  subdued 
tone.  “ I did  not  mean  to  terrify  you — but  beware  of  what  I 
told  you.” 

While  Antoine  occupied  himself  with  the  preparations  for  my 
toilet,  I sat  broodingly  over  the  wood  embers,  thinking  of  my 
fate. 

A knock  came  to  the  door.  It  was  the  tailor’s  servant  with 
my  clothes.  He  laid  down  the  parcel  and  retired,  while  Antoine 
proceeded  to  open  it,  and  exhibit  before  me  a blue  uniform  with 
embroidered  collar  and  cuffs — the  whole,  without  being  gaudy, 
being  sufficiently  handsome,  and  quite  as  showy  as  I could  wish.” 

The  poor  waiter  expressed  his  unqualified  approval  of  the 
costume,  and  talked  away  about  the  approaching  ball  as  some- 
thing pre-eminently  magnificent. 

“ You  had  better  look  after  the  fiacre , Antoine,”  said  I ; “it 
is  past  nine.” 

He  walked  towards  the  door,  opened  it,  and  then  turning 
round,  said,  in  a kind  of  low,  confidential  whisper,  pointing, 


400  HARR  Y LORREQUER. 

with  the  thumb  of  his  left  hand  towards  the  wall  of  the  room 
as  he  spoke, — 

“ He  won’t  go — very  strange  that.” 

“ Who  do  you  mean  ? ” said  I,  quite  unconscious  of  the  al- 
lusion. 

“ The  Charge  d’Aff ” 

I made  one  spring  at  him,  but  he  slammed  the  door  to,  and 
before  I could  reach  the  lobby,  I heard  him  rolling  from  top  to 
bottom  of  the  oak  staircase,  making  noise  enough  in  his  fall  to 
account  for  the  fracture  of  every  bone  in  his  body. 


CHAPTER  LIV. 

THE  BALL. 

As  I was  informed  that  the  King  would  himself  be  present  at 
the  ball,  I knew  that  Court  etiquette  required  that  the  company 
should  arrive  before  his  Majesty ; and,  although  at  every  min- 
ute I expected  the  arrival  of  the  Callonbys,  I dared  not  defer 
my  departure  any  longer. 

“ They  are  certain  to  be  at  the  ball,”  said  Waller,  and  that 
sentence  never  left  my  mind. 

So  saying  I jumped  into  the  fiacre , and  in  a few  minutes  found 
myself  in  the  long  line  of  carriages  that  led  to  the  “ Hof-saal.” 
Any  one  who  has  been  in  Munich  will  testify  for  me,  that  the 
ball-room  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  in  Europe,  and  to  me, 
who  for  some  time  had  not  been  living  much  in  the  world,  its 
splendor  was  positively  dazzling.  The  glare  of  the  chandeliers, 
the  clang  of  the  music,  the  magnificence  of  the  dresses,  the  beauty 
of  the  Bavarian  women,  too,  all  surprised  and  amazed  me. 
There  were  several  hundred  people  present,  but  the  King  not 
having  yet  arrived,  dancing  had  not  yet  commenced.  Feeling 
as  I did  then,  it  was  rather  a relief  to  me  than  otherwise,  that 
I knew  no  one.  There  was  quite  amusement  enough  in  walking 
through  the  saloons,  observing  the  strange  costumes,  and  re- 
marking the  various  groups  as  they  congregated  around  the 
trays  of  ices  and  the  champagne  frappe.  The  buzz  of  talking 
and  the  sounds  of  laughter  and  merriment  prevailed  over  even 
the  orchestra ; and,  as  the  gay  crowds  paraded  the  rooms,  all 
seemed  pleasure  and  excitement.  Suddenly  a tremendous  noise 
was  heard  without — then  came  a loud  roll  of  the  drums,  which 
lasted  for  several  seconds,  and  the  clank  of  musketrv — then  a 
qheer; it  is  the  King. 


THE  BALL . 


401 


“ The  King  ! ” resounded  on  all  sides  ; and  i.n  another  mo- 
ment the  folding-doors  at  the  end  of  the  saal  were  thrown  open, 
and  the  music  struck  up  the  national  anthem  of  Bavaria. 

His  Majesty  entered,  accompanied  by  the  Queen,  his  brother, 
two  or  three  Archduchesses,  and  a long  suite  of  officers. 

I could  not  help  remarking  upon  the  singular  good  taste  with 
which  the  assembly — all  anxious  and  eager  to  catch  a glimpse 
of  his  Majesty — behaved  on  this  occasion.  There  was  no  press- 
ing forward  to  the  estrade  where  he  stood — no  vulgar  curiosity 
evinced  by  any  one,  but  the  groups  continued,  as  before,  to 
gather  and  scatter.  The  only  difference  being,  that  the  velvet 
chair  and  cushion,  which  had  attracted  some  observers  before, 
were,  now  that  they  were  tenanted  by  royalty,  passed  with  a deep 
and  respectful  salutation.  “ How  proper  this,”  thought  I,  “ and 
what  an  inducement  for  a monarch  to  come  among  his  people, 
who  remember  to  receive  him  with  such  true  politeness.”  While 
these  thoughts  were  passing  through  my  mind,  and  I was  leaning 
against  a pillar  that  supported  the  gallery  of  the  orchestra,  a 
gentleman  whose  dress,  covered  with  gold  and  embroidery,  be- 
spoke him  as  belonging  to  the  court,  eyed  me  with  his  lorgnette, 
and  then  passed  rapidly  on.  A quadrille  was  now  forming  near 
me,  and  I was  watching,  with  some  interest,  the  proceeding, 
when  the  same  figure  that  I remarked  before,  approached  me, 
bowing  deeply  at  every  step,  and  shaking  a halo  of  powder  from 
his  hair  at  each  reverence. 

“ May  I take  the  liberty  of  introducing  myself  to  you  ? ” said 
he.  “ Le  Comte  Benningsen.”  Here  he  bowed  again,  and  I 
returned  the  obeisance  still  deeper. — “ Regret  much  that  I was 
not  fortunate  enough  to  make  your  acquaintance  this  evening, 
when  I called  upon  you,”  said  he,  with  another  salutation. 

“ Never  heard  of  that,”  said  I to  myself. 

“ Your  Excellency  arrived  this  evening  ? ” 

“ Yes,”  said  I,  “ only  a few  hours  since.” 

“ How  fond  these  Germans  are  of  titles,”  thought  I.  Re- 
membering that  in  Vienna  every  one  is  “ his  Grace,”  I thought 
it  might  be  Bavarian  politeness  to  call  every  one  his  Excellency. 
“ You  have  not  been  presented,  I believe  ? ” 

“No,”  said  I ; “but  I hope  to  take  an  early  opportunity  of 
paying  mes  hommages  to  his  Majesty.” 

“ I have  just  received  his  orders  to  present  you  now,”  replied 
he,  with  another  bow. 

“ The  devil  you  have,”  thought  I.  “ How  very  civifthat.”  And, 
although  I had  heard  innumerable  anecdotes  of  the  free-and- 
easy  habits  of  the  Bavarian  Court,  this  certainly  surprised  me, 
so  that  I actually,  to  prevent  a blunder,  said,  “ Am  I to  under- 
26 


402  HARRY  L ORREQUER. 

stand  you,  Monsieur  le  Comte,  that  his  Majesty  was  graciously 
pleased ” 

“ If  you  will  follow  me,”  replied  the  courtier,  motioning  with 
his  chapeau  ; and  in  another  moment  I was  elbowing  my  way 
through  the  mob  of  Marquises  and  Duchesses,  on  my  way  to  the 
raised  platform  where  the  King  was  standing. 

“ Heaven  grant  I have  not  misunderstood  all  he  has  been 
saying,”  was  my  last  thought,  as  the  crowd  of  courtiers  fell  back 
on  either  side,  and  I found  myself  before  his  Majesty.  How 
the  Grand  Marechal  entitled  me,  I heard  not ; but  when  the 
King  addressed  me  immediately  in  English,  saying,  “ I hope 
your  Excellency  has  had  a good  journey  ? ” I said  to  myself, 
“ Come,  there  is  no  mistake  here,  Harry;  and  it  is  only  another 
freak  of  fortune,  who  is  now  in  good  humor  with  you.” 

The  King,  who  was  a fine,  tall,  well-built  man,  with  a large, 
bushy  mustache,  possessed,  though  not  handsome,  a most  pleas- 
ing expression  ; his  utterance  was  very  rapid,  and  his  English 
none  of  the  best,  so  that  it  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  I con- 
trived to  follow  his  questions,  which  came  thick  as  hail  upon 
me.  After  some  commonplaces  about  the  roads,  the  weather, 
and  the  seasons,  his  Majesty  said, — 

“ My  Lord  Callonby  has  been  residing  some  time  here.  You 
know  him  ? ” And  then,  not  waiting  for  a reply,  added,  “ Pleas- 
ant person — well  informed — like  him  much,  and  his  daughters 
too — how  handsome  they  are  ! ” Here  I blushed,  and  felt  most 
awkwardly,  while  the  King  continued, — 

“ Hope  they  will  remain  some  time — quite  an  ornament  to  our 
court.  Monsieur  le  Comte,  his  Excellency  will  dance.”  I here 
muttered  an  apology  about  my  sprained  ankle,  and  the  King 
turned  to  converse  with  some  of  the  ladies  of  the  court.  His 
Majesty’s  notice  brought  several  persons  now  around  me,  who 
introduced  themselves  ; and  in  a quarter  of  an  hour,  I felt  my- 
self surrounded  by  acquaintances,  each  vying  with  the  other  in 
showing  me  attention. 

“ Worse  places  than  Munich,  Master  Harry,”  thought  I,  as  I 
chaperoned  a fat  Duchess,  with  fourteen  quarterings,  towards  the 
refreshment-room,  and  had  just  accepted  invitations  enough  to 
occupy  me  three  weeks  in  advance. 

“ I have  been  looking  everywhere  for  your  Excellency,”  said 
the  Grand  Marechal,  bustling  his  way  to  me,  breathless  and 
panting.  “ His  Majesty  desires  you  will  make  one  of  his  party 
at  whist,  so  pray  come  at  once.” 

“ Figaro  qua,  Figaro  la,”  muttered  I.  “ Never  was  man  in 
such  request.  Heaven  grant  the  whole  royal  family  of  Bavaria 
be  not  mady  for  this  looks  very  like  it.  Lady  Jane  had  better 


THE  BALE 


403 


look  sharp,  for  I have  only  to  throw  my  eyes  on  an  Archduchess, 
to  be  King  of  the  Bavarian  Tyrol  some  fine  morning.” 

“ You  play  whist,  of  course  ; every  Englishman  does,”  said  the 
King.  “ You  shall  be  my  partner.” 

Our  adversaries  were  the  Prince  Maximilian,  brother  to  his 
Majesty,  and  the  Prussian  Ambassador.  As  I sat  down  at  the 
table,  I could  not  help  saying  in  my  heart,  “ Now  is  your  time, 
Harry ; if  my  Lord  Callonby  should  see  you,  your  fortune  is 
made.”  Waller  passed  at  this  moment,  and  as  he  saluted  the 
King,  I saw  him  actually  start  with  amazement  as  he  beheld  me. 
— “ Better  fun  this  than  figuring  in  the  yellow  plush,  Master 
Jack,”  I muttered,  as  he  passed  on,  actually  thunderstruck  with 
amazement.  But  the  game  was  begun,  and  I was  obliged  to  be 
attentive.  We  won  the  first  game,  and  the  King  was  in  immense 
good  humor  as  he  took  some  franc  pieces  from  the  Prussian 
minister,  who,  small  as  the  stake  was,  seemed  not  to  relish  los- 
ing. His  Majesty  now  complimented  me  upon  my  play,  and 
was  about  to  add  something,  when  he  perceived  some  one  in  the 
crowd,  and  sent  an  aide-de-camp  for  him. 

“ Ah,  my  Lord,  we  expected  you  earlier ; ” and  then  said  some 
words  in  too  low  a tone  for  me  to  hear,  motioning  towards  me 
as  he  spoke.  If  Waller  was  surprised  at  seeing  me  where  I was, 
it  was  nothing  to  the  effect  produced  upon  the  present  party, 
whom  I now  recognized  as  Lord  Callonby.  Respect  for  the 
presence  we  were  in  restrained  any  expression  on  either  side, 
and  a more  ludicrous  tableau  than  we  presented  can  scarcely 
be  conceived.  What  I would  have  given  that  the  whist  party 
was  over,  I need  not  say,  and  certainly  his  Majesty’s  eulogy 
upon  my  play  came  too  soon,  for  I was  now  so  discomposed,  my 
eyes  wandering  from  the  table  to  see  if  Lady  Jane  was  near,  that 
I lost  every  trick,  and  finished  by  revoking.  The  King  rose 
half  pettishly,  observing  that  “ His  Excellency  seems  fatigued,” 
and  I rushed  forward  to  shake  hands  with  Lord  Callonby,  totally 
forgetting  the  royal  censure  in  my  delight  at  discovering  my 
friend. 

“ Lorrequer,  I am  indeed  rejoiced  to  see  you,  and  when  did 
you  arrive  ? ” 

“ This  evening.” 

“ This  evening  1 and  how  the  deuce  have  you  contrived  al- 
ready, eh  ? — why  you  seem  quite  at  home  here  ? ” 

“ You  shall  hear  all,”  said  I,  hastily;  “ but  is  Lady  Callonby 
here  ? ” 

“ No.  Kilkee  only  is  with  me  ; there  he  is,  figuranting  away 
in  a galop.  The  ladies  were  too  tired  to  come  ; particularly  as 
they  dine  at  court  to-morrow,  the  fatigue  would  be  too  great,” 


404 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


“ I have  his  Majesty’s  order  to  invite  your  Excellency  to  din- 
ner to-morrow,”  said  the  Grand  Marechal,  coming  up  at  this 
instant. 

I bowed  my  acknowledgments,  and  turned  again  to  Lord  Cal- 
lonby,  whose  surprise  now  seemed  to  have  reached  the  cli- 
max. 

“ Why,  Lorrequer,  I never  heard  of  this  ; — when  did  you  adopt 
this  new  career  ? ” 

Not  understanding  the  gist  of  the  question,  and  conceiving 
that  it  applied  to  my  success  at  court,  I answered  at  random, 
something  about  “ falling  upon  my  legs,  good  luck,  etc.,”  and 
once  more  returned  to  the  charge,  inquiring  most  anxiously  for 
Lady  Callonby  s health. 

“Ah!  she  is  tolerably  well.  Jane  is  the  only  invalid ; but 
then  we  hope  Italy  will  restore  her.”  Just  at  this  instant,  Kil- 
kee  caught  my  eye,  and  rushing  over  from  his  place  beside  his 
partner,  shook  me  by  both  hands,  saying, — 

“ Delighted  to  see  you  here,  Lorrequer ; but  as  I can’t  stay 
now,  promise  to  sup  with  me  to-night  at  the  ‘ Cross.’  ” 

I accepted  of  course,  and  the  next  instant  he  was  whirling 
along  in  his  waltz,  with  one  of  the  most  lovely  German  girls  I 
ever  saw.  Lord  Callonby  saw  my  admiration  of  her,  and  as  it 
were  replying  to  my  gaze,  remarked, — 

“Yes,  very  handsome  indeed;  but  really  Kilkee  is  going  too 
far  with  it.  I rely  very  much  upon  you  to  reason  him  out  of  his 
folly,  and  we  have  all  agreed  that  you  have  most  influence  over 
him,  and  are  most  likely  to  be  listened  to  patiently.” 

Here  was  a new  character  assigned  me,  the  confidential  friend 
yyid  adviser  of  the  family,  trusted  with  a most  delicate  and  im- 
portant secret,  likely  to  bring  me  into  the  most  intimate  terms 
of  intercourse  with  them  all,  for  the  “ we  ” of  Lord  Callonby  be- 
spoke a family  consultation,  in  which  I was  deputed  as  the  ne- 
gotiator. I at  once  promised  my  assistance,  saying,  at  the  same 
time,  that  if  Kilkee  really  was  strongly  attached,  and  had  also 
reason  to  suppose  that  the  lady  liked  him,  it  was  not  exactly 
fair  ; that,  in  short,  if  the  matter  had  gone  beyond  flirtation,  any 
interference  of  mine  would  be  imprudent,  if  not  impertinent. 
Lord  Callonby  smiled  slightly  as  he  replied, — 

“ Quite  right,  Lorrequer ; I am  just  as  much  against  constraint 
as  yourself,  if  only  no  great  barriers  exist ; but  here,  with  a dif- 
ference of  religion,  country,  language,  habits,  in  fact,  everything 
that  can  create  disparity,  the  thing  is  not  to  be  thought  of.” 

I suspected  that  his  lordship  read  in  my  partial  defence  of 
Kilkee  a slight  attempt  to  prop  up  my  own  case,  and  felt  con- 
fused and  embarrassed  beyond  measure  at  the  detection. 


THE  BALL . 


405 


“ Well,  we  shall  have  time  enough  for  all  this.  Now  let  us 
hear  something  of  my  old  friend  Sir  Guy.  How  is  he  looking  ? ” 
“ I am  unfortunately  unable  to  give  you  any  account  of  him. 
I left  Paris  the  very  da)  before  he  was  expected  to  arrive 
there.” 

“ Oh,  then,  I have  all  the  news  myself  in  that  case,  for  in  his 
letter  which  I received  yesterday,  he  mentions  that  we  are  not 
to  expect  him  before  Tuesday.” 

“ Expect  him  ! Is  he  coming  here,  then  ? ” 

“ Yes.  Why,  I thought  you  were  aware  of  that ; he  has  been 
long  promising  to  pay  us  a visit,  and  at  last,  by  great  persuasion, 
we  have  succeeded  in  getting  him  across  the  sea,  and,  indeed, 
were  it  not  that  he  was  coming,  we  should  have  been  in  Flor- 
ence before  this.” 

A gleam  of  hope  shot  through  my  heart  as  I said  to  myself, 
‘ What  can  this  visit  mean  ? ” and  the  moment  after  I felt  sick, 
almost  fainting,  as  I asked  if  my  cousin  Guy  was  aiso  expected. 

“ Oh,  yes.  We  shall  want  him,  I should  think/'  said  Lord 
Callonby,  with  a very  peculiar  smile. 

I thought  I should  have  fallen  at  these  few  words.  “ Come, 
Harry,”  thought  I,  “ it  is  better  to  learn  your  fate  at  once-  Now 
or  never;  death  itself  were  preferable  to  this  continued  sus- 
pense. If  the  blow  is  to  fall,  it  can  scarcely  sink  me  lower  thav 
I now  feel.”  So  reasoning,  I laid  my  hand  upon  Lord  Callom 
by’s  arm,  and  with  a face  pale  as  death,  and  a voice  all  but  inar 
ticulate,  said, — 

“ My  lord,  you  will  pardon,  I am  sure ” 

“ My  dear  Lorrequer,”  said  his  Lordship,  interrupting  me* 
“ for  heaven’s  sake  sit  down.  How  ill  you  are  looking ; we 
must  nurse  you,  my  poor  fellow.” 

I sank  upon  a bench — the  light  danced  before  my  eyes — the 
clang  of  the  music  sounded  like  the  roar  of  a waterfall,  and  1 
felt  a cold  perspiration  burst  over  my  face  and  forehead  ; at  the 
instant  I recognized  Kilkee’s  voice,  and  without  well  knowing 
why  or  how,  discovered  myself  in  the  open  air. 

“ Come,  you  are  better  now,”  said  Kilkee,  “ and  will  be  quite 
well  when  you  get  some  supper,  and  a little  of  the  tokay  his 
Majesty  has  been  good  enough  to  send  us.” 

“ His  Majesty  desires  to  know  if  his  Excellency  is  better,” 
said  an  aide-de-camp. 

I muttered  my  most  grateful  acknowledgments. 

“ One  of  the  Court  carriages  is  in  waiting  for  your  Excel- 
lency,” said  a venerable  old  gentleman  in  a tie  wig,  whom  I 
recognized  as  the  Minister  for  Foreign  Affairs,  as  he  added,  in 
a lower  tone,  to  Lord  Callonby,  “ I fear  he  has  been  greatly 


40 6 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


overworked  lately.  His  exertions  on  the  subject  of  the  Greek 
Loan  are  well  known  to  his  Majesty.” 

“ Indeed  ! ” said  Lord  Callonby,  with  a start  of  surprise  ; “ I 
never  heard  of  that  before. ” 

If  it  had  not  been  for  that  start  of  amazement,  I should  have 
died  of  terror.  It  was  the  only  thing  that  showed  me  I was 
not  out  of  my  senses,  which  I now  concluded  the  old  gentleman 
must  be,  for  I never  had  heard  of  the  Greek  Loan  in  my  life 
before. 

“ Farewell ! mon  cher  collogue/’  said  the  venerable  ministei, 
as  I got  into  the  carriage,  wondering,  as  well  I might,  what 
singular  band  of  brotherhood  united  one  of  his  Majesty’s  4 — th 
with  the  Minister  for  Foreign  Affairs  of  the  Court  of  Bavaria. 

When  I arrived  at  the  “ White  Cross,”  I found  my  nerves, 
usually  proof  to  anything,  so  shaken  and  shattered,  that,  fearing, 
with  the  difficult  game  before  me,  any  mistake,  however  trivial, 
might  mar  all  my  fortunes  forever,  I said  a “ Good-night”  to 
my  friends,  and  went  to  bed. 


CHAPTER  LV. 

A DISCOVERY. 

“ A note  for  Monsieur;”  said  the  waiter,  awaking  me  at  the 
same  time  from  the  soundest  sleep  and  the  most  delightful 
dream.  The  billet  was  thus  : — 

“If  ‘your  Excellency’  does  not  intend  to  slumber  during  the 
next  twenty-four  hours,  it  might  be  as  well  to  remember  that  we 
are  waiting  breakfast.  Ever  yours, 

“ Kilkee.” 

“ It  is  true,  then,”  said  I,  following  up  the  delusion  of  my 
dream — “ it  is  true  I am  really  domesticated  once  more  with  the 
Callonbys ; my  suit  is  prospering,  and  at  length  the  long-sought, 
long  hoped-for  moment  is  come ” 

“Well,  Harry,”  said  Kilkee,  as  he  dashed  open  the  door — 
“well,  Harry,  how  are  you? — better  than  last  night,. I hope?” 

“ Oh  yes,  considerably.  In  fact,  I can’t  think  what  could 
have  been  the  matter  with  me ; but  I felt  confoundedly 
uncomfortable.” 

“You  did!  Why,  man,  what  can  you  mean?  Was  it  not 
a joke  ? ” 


A DISCOVERY. 


407 


" A joke  ! ” said  I,  with  a start. 

“ Yes,  to  be  sure.  I thought  it  was  only  the  sequel  of  the 
other  humbug.” 

“ ‘ The  sequel  of  the  other  humbug ! ’ Gracious  mercy,” 
thought  I,  getting  pale  with  horror,  “ is  it  thus  he  ventures  to 
designate  my  attachment  to  his  sister  ? ” 

“Come,  come,  it’s  all  over  now.  What  the  devil  could  have 
persuaded  you  to  push  the  thing  so  far  ? ” 

“ Really,  I am  so  completely  in  the  dark  as  to  your  meaning, 
that  I only  get  deeper  in  the  mystery  by  my  chance  replies. 
What  do  you  mean  ? ” 

“ What  do  I mean  ? Why,  the  affair  of  last  night  of  course. 
All  Munich  is  full  of  it ; and  most  fortunately  for  you,  the  King 
has  taken  it  all  in  the  most  good-humored  way,  and  laughs 
more  than  any  one  else  about  it.” 

“ Oh,  then,”  thought  I,  “ I must  have  done  or  said  something 
last  night,  during  my  illness,  that  I can’t  remember  now.  Come, 
Kilkee,  out  with  it.  What  happened  last  night,  that  has  served 
to  amuse  the  good  people  of  Munich  ? for  as  I am  a true  man, 
I forget  all  you  are  alluding  to.” 

“ And  don’t  remember  the  Greek  Loan,  eh  ? ” 

“ The  Greek  Loan  : ” 

“And  your  Excellency’s  marked  reception  by  his  Majesty ? 
By  Jove  ! though,  it  was  the  rarest  piece  of  impudence  I ever 
heard  of : hoaxing  a crowned  head,  quizzing  one  of  the  Lord’s 
anointed,  is  un  peu  trop  fort.” 

“If  you  really  do  not  wish  to  render  me  insane  at  once,  for 
the  love  of  mercy  say,  in  plain  terms,  what  all  this  means.” 

“ Come,  come,  I see  you  are  incorrigible ; but  as  breakfast 
is  waiting  all  this  time,  we  shall  have  your  explanations  below 
stairs.” 

Before  I had  time  for  another  question,  Kilkee  passed  his  arm 
within  mine,  and  led  me  along  the  corridor,  pouring  out,  the 
entire  time,  a whole  rhapsody  about  the  practical  joke  of  my  late 
illness,  which  he  was  pleased  to  say  would  ring  from  one  end  of 
Europe  to  the  other. 

Lord  Callonby  was  alone  in  the  breakfast-room  when  we 
entered,  and  the  moment  he  perceived  me,  called  out, — 

“ Eh,  Lorrequer,  you  here  still  ? Why,  man,  I thought  you’d 
have  been  over  the  frontier  early  this  morning.” 

“ Indeed ! my  lord.  I am  not  exactly  aware  of  any  urgent 
reason  for  so  rapid  a flight.” 

“ Vou  are  not  ? — the  devil  you  are  not ! Why,  you  must  surely 
have  known  his  Majesty  to  be  the  best-tempered  man  in  his 
dominions,  then,  or  you  would  never  have  played  off  such  a 


4o8 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


ruse ; though,  I must  say,  there  never  was  anything  better  done. 
Old  Heldersteen,  the  Minister  for  Foreign  Affairs,  is  nearly 
deranged  this  morning  about  it.  It  seems  that  he  was  the 
first  that  fell  into  the  trap.  But,  seriously  speaking,  I think 
it  would  be  better  if  you  got  away  from  this.  The  King,  it 
is  true,  has  behaved  with  the  best  possible  good  feeling ; 
but ” 

“ My  lord,  I have  a favor  to  ask,  perhaps — indeed,  in  all 
likelihood,  the  last  I shall  ever  ask  of  your  lordship — it  is  this : 
what  are  you  alluding  to  all  this  while  ? and  for  what  especial 
reason  do  you  suggest  my  immediate  departure  from  Munich  ? ” 
“ Bless  my  heart  and  soul ! you  surely  cannot  mean  to  carry 
the  thing  on  any  further?  You  never  can  intend  to  assume 
your  ministerial  functions  by  daylight  ? ” 

“ My  what ! — my  ministerial  functions  ! ” 

“ Oh  no,  that  were  too  much,  even  though  his  Majesty  did  say 
that  you  were  the  most  agreeable  diplomatist  he  had  met  for  a 
long  time.” 

“ I,  a diplomatist ! ” 

“ You  ! — certainly.  Surely,  you  cannot  be  acting  now  ! Why, 
gracious  mercy,  Lorrequer ! can  it  be  possible  that  you  were  not 
doing  it  by  design  ? Do  you  really  not  know  in  what  character 
you  appeared  last  night  ? ” 

“ If  in  any  other  than  that  of  Harry  Lorrequer,  my  lord,  I 
pledge  my  honor  I am  ignorant.” 

“ Nor  the  uniform  you  wore — don’t  you  know  what  it 
meant  ? ” 

“ The  tailor  sent  it  to  my  room.” 

“Why,  by  Jove!  this  will  kill  me !”  said  Lord  Callonby, 
bursting  into  a fit  of  laughter,  in  which  Kilkee,  a hitherto  silent 
spectator  of  our  colloquy,  joined  to  such  an  extent,  that  I thought 
he  might  burst  a blood-vessel.  “ Why,  man,  you  went  as  the 
Charge  d’ Affaires.” 

“ I,  the  Charge  d’Aifaires  ! ” 

“ That  you  did,  and  a most  successful  dibut  you  made  of  it.” 
While  shame  and  confusion  covered  me  from  head  to 
foot  at  the  absurd  and  ludicrous  blunder  I had  been  guilty 
of,  the  sense  of  the  ridiculous  was  so  strong  in  me,  that  I 
fell  upon  a sofa,  and  laughed  on  with  the  others  for  full  ten 
minutes. 

“Your  Excellency  is,  I am  rejoiced  to  find,  in  good  spirits,” 
said  Lady  Callonby,  entering,  and  presenting  her  hand. 

“ He  is  so  glad  to  have  arranged  the  Greek  Loan,”  said 
Lady  Catherine,  smiling,  with  ° half-malicious  twinkle  of  the 
eye. 


A DISCO  VERY. 


409 


Just  at  this  instant,  another  door  opened,  and  Lady  Jane 
appeared.  Luckily  for  me,  the  increased  mirth  of  the  party,  as 
Lord  Callonby  informed  them  of  my  blunder,  prevented  their 
paying  any  attention  to  me  ; for,  as  I half-sprung  forward  toward 
her,  my  agitation  would  have  revealed  to  any  observer  the  whole 
state  of  my  feelings.  I took  her  hand,  which  she  extended  to 
me,  without  speaking,  and  bowing  deeply  over  it,  raised  my  head 
and  looked  into  her  eyes,  as  if  to  read,  at  one  glance,  my  fate, 
and  when  I let  fall  her  hand,  I would  not  have  exchanged  my 
fortune  for  a kingdom. 

“ You  have  heard,  Jane,  how  our  friend  opened  his  campaign 
in  Munich  last  night  ? ” 

“ Oh,  I hope,  Mr.  Lorrequer,  they  are  only  quizzing.  You 
surely  could  not ” 

“ Could  not.  What  he  could  not — what  he  would  not  do, 
is  beyond  my  calculation  to  make  out/7  said  Kilkee,  laughing ; 
“anything  in  life  from  breaking  an  axletree  to  hoaxing  a king.” 
I turned,  as  may  be  imagined,  a deaf  ear  to  this  allusion, 
which  really  frightened  me,  not  knowing  how  far  Kilkee’s 
information  might  lead,  nor  how  be  might  feel  disposed  to  use 
it.  Lady  Jane  turned  a half-reproachful  glance  at  me,  as  if 
rebuking  my  folly;  but  the  interest  she  thus  took  in  me  I 
would  not  have  bartered  for  the  smile  of  the  proudest  queen  in 
Christendom. 

Breakfast  over,  Lord  Callonby  undertook  to  explain  to  the 
Court  the  blunder  by  which  I had  unwittingly  been  betrayed 
into  personating  the  newly-arrived  minister,  and  as  the  mistake 
was  more  of  their  causing  than  my  own,  my  excuses  were 
accepted,  and  when  his  lordship  returned  to  the  hotel,  he  brought 
with  him  an  invitation  for  me  to  dine  at  Court  in  my  own  unac- 
credited character.  By  this  time  I had  been  carrying  on  the 
siege  as  briskly  as  circumstances  permitted ; Lady  Callonby 
being  deeply  interested  in  her  newly-arrived  purchases,  and 
Lady  Catherine  being  good-natured  enough  to  pretend  to  be  so 
also,  left  me,  at  intervals,  many  opportunities  of  speaking  to v 
Lady  Jane. 

As  I feared  that  such  occasions  would  not  often  present 
themselves,  I determined  on  making  the  best  use  of  my  time, 
and  at  once  led  the  conversation  towards  the  goal  I aimed  at, 
by  asking,  “if  Lady  Jane  had  completely  forgotten  the  wild  cliffs 
md  rocky  coast  of  Clare,  amid  the  tall  mountains  and  glaciered 
peaks  of  the  Tyrol  ? ” 

“ Far  from  it,”  she  replied.  “I  have  a most  clear  remem- 
brance of  bold  Moher  and  the  rolling  swell  of  the  blue 
Atlantic,  and  long  to  feel  its  spray  once  more  upon  my  cheek,* 


4io 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


but  then,  I knew  it  in  childhood — your  acquaintance  with  it 
was  of  a later  date,  and  connected  with  fewer  happy  associa- 
tions.^ 

“ Fewer  happy  associations— how  can  you  say  so  ? Was  it 
not  there  the  brightest  hours  of  my  whole  life  were  passed — was 
it  not  there  I first  met ” 

“Kilkee  tells  me, ” said  Lady  Jane,  interrupting  me  shortly, 
“ that  Miss  Bingham  is  extremely  pretty.” 

This  was  turning  my  flank  with  a vengeance ; so  I muttered 
something  about  difference  of  tastes,  etc.,  and  continued,  “ I 
understand  my  worthy  cousin  Guy  had  the  good  fortune  to  make 
your  acquaintance  in  Paris.” 

It  was  now  her  turn  to  blush,  which  she  did  deeply,  and  said 
nothing. 

“He  is  expected,  I believe,  in  a few  days  at  Munich,”  said  I, 
fixing  my  eyes  upon  her,  and  endeavoring  to  read  her  thoughts  ; 
she  blushed  more  deeply,  and  the  blood  at  my  own  heart  ran 
cold,  as  I thought  over  all  I had  heard,  and  I muttered  to 
myself,  “ She  loves  him.” 

“ Mr.  Lorrequer,  the  carriage  is  waiting,  and  as  we  are  going 
to  the  Gallery  this  morning,  and  have  much  to  see,  pray  let  us 
have  your  escort.” 

“ Oh,  I’m  sure,”  said  Catherine,  “ his  assistance  will  be 
considerable — particularly  if  his  knowledge  of  art  only  equals 
his  tact  in  botany.  Don’t  you  think  so,  Jane  ? ” But  Jane  was 
gone. 

They  left  the  room  to  dress,  and  I was  alone — alone  with 
my  anxious,  now  half-despairing  thoughts,  crowding  and  rushing 
upon  my  beating  brain.  “ She  loves  him,  and  I have  only 
come  to  witness  her  becoming  the  wife  of  another.  I see  it  all, 
too  plainly : my  uncle’s  arrival — Lord  Callonby’s  familiar 

manner — Jane’s  own  confession.  All — all  convince  me  that 
my  fate  is  decided.  Now,  then,  for  one  last  brief  explanation, 
and  I leave  Munich,  never  to  see  her  more.”  Just  as  I had 
so  spoken,  she  entered.  Her  gloves  had  been  forgotten  in  the 
room,  and  she  came  in,  not  knowing  that  I was  there.  What 
would  I not  have  given  at  that  moment  for  the  ready-witted 
assurance,  the  easy  self-possession,  with  which  I should  have 
made  my  advances  had  my  heart  not  been  as  deeply  engaged 
as  I now  felt  it.  Alas ! my  courage  was  gone  ; there  was 
too  much  at  stake,  and  I preferred,  now  that  the  time  was 
come,  any  suspense,  any  vacillation,  to  the  dreadful  certainty  of 
refusal. 

These  were  my  first  thoughts,  as  she  entered ; how  they 
were  followed,  I cannot  say.  The  same  wild  confusion  of  my 


A DISCOVERY. 


4i* 


brain,  which  I once  felt  when  mounting  the  breach  in  a storm- 
party,  now  completely  beset  me ; and  as  then,  when  death 
and  destruction  raged  on  every  side,  I held  on  my  way  re- 
gardless of  every  obstacle,  and  forgetting  all  save  the  goal 
before  me ; so  did  I now,  in  the  intensity  of  my  excitement, 
disregard  everything,  save  the  story  of  my  love,  which  I 
poured  forth  with  that  fervor  which  truth  only  can  give. 
But  she  spoke  not ; her  averted  head,  her  cold  and  tremulous 
hand,  and  half  drawn-sigh,  were  all  that  replied  to  me,  as  I 
waited  for  that  one  word  upon  which  hung  all  my  fortune. 
At  length  her  hand,  which  I scarcely  held  within  my  own, 
was  gently  withdrawn.  She  lifted  it  to  her  eyes,  but  still  was 
silent. 

“ Enough,”  said  I ; “ I seek  not  to  pain  you  more.  The 
daring  ambition  that  prompted  me  to  love  you  has  met  its 
heaviest  retribution.  Farewell.  You , Lady  Jane,  have  noth- 
ing to  reproach  yourself  with — you  never  encouraged,  you 
never  deceived  me.  I,  and  I alone,  have  been  to  blame,  and 
mine  must  be  the  suffering.  Adieu,  then,  once  more,  and  for- 
ever.” 

She  turned  slowly  round,  and,  as  the  handkerchief  fell  from 
her  hand — her  features  were  pale  as  marble — I saw  that  she 
was  endeavoring  to  speak,  but  could  not ; and,  at  length,  as 
the  color  came  slowly  back  to  her  cheek,  her  lips  moved,  and 
just  as  I leaned  forward,  with  beating  heart,  to  hear,  her  sister 
came  running  forward,  and  suddenly  checked  herself  in  her 
career,  as  she  said,  laughingly, — 

“Mille  pardons,  Jane,  but  his  Excellency  must  take  another 
occasion  to  explain  the  quadruple  alliance,  for  mamma  has  been 
waiting  in  the  carriage  these  ten  minutes.” 

I followed  them  to  the  door,  placed  them  in  the  carriage, 
and  was  turning  again  towards  the  house,  when  Lady  Callonby 
said, — 

“ Oh,  Mr.  Lorrequer,  we  count  upon  you ; you  must  not 
desert  us.” 

I muttered  something  about  not  feeling  well. 

“ And  then,  perhaps,  the  Greek  Loan  is  engaging  your  atten- 
tion,” said  Catherine;  “ or,  mayhap,  some  reciprocity  treaty  is 
not  prospering  ? ” 

The  malice  of  this  last  sally  told,  for  Jane  blushed  deeply,  and 
I felt  overwhelmed  with  confusion. 

“ But  pray  come  ; the  drive  will  do  you  good.” 

“ Your  ladyship  will,  I am  certain,  excuse ” 

Just  as  I had  got  so  far,  I caught  Lady  Jane’s  eye,  for  the 
first  time  since  we  had  left  the  drawing-room.  What  I read 


4,12 


HARRY  L ORREQUER. 


there,  I could  not,  for  the  life  of  me,  say;  but,  instead  of 
finishing  my  sentence,  I got  into  the  carriage,  and  drove  off, 
very  much  to  the  surprise  of  Lady  Callonby,  who,  never  having 
studied  magnetism,  knew  very  little  the  cause  of  my  sudden 
recovery. 

The  thrill  of  hope  that  shot  through  my  heart  succeeding  so 
rapidly  the  dark  gloom  of  my  despairing  thoughts,  buoyed  me 
up  ; and  while  I whispered  to  myself,  “ All  may  not  yet  be  lost,” 
I summoned  my  best  energies  to  my  aid.  Luckily  for  me,  I 
was  better  qualified  to  act  as  cicerone  in  a gallery  than  as  a 
guide  in  a green-house  ; and  with  the  confidence  that  knowledge 
of  a subject  ever  inspires,  I rattled  away  about  art  and  artists, 
greatly  to  the  edification  of  Lady  Callonby — much  to  the  surprise 
of  Lady  Catherine— and,  better  than  all,  evidently  to  the  satis- 
faction of  her,  to  win  whose  praise  I would  gladly  have  risked 
my  life. 

“ There,”  said  I,  as  I placed  my  fair  friend  before  a delicious 
little  Madonna  of  Carlo  Dolce,  “ there  is,  perhaps,  the 
triumph  of  coloring;  from  the  downy  softness  of  that  cheek, 
the  luscious  depth  of  that  blue  eye,  the  waving  richness  of 
those  sunny  locks,  all  is  perfect ; fortunately  so  beautiful  a 
head  is  not  a monopoly,  for  he  painted  many  copies  of  this 
picture.” 

“ Quite  true,”  said  a voice  behind  ; “ and  mine  at  Elton  is, 
I think,  if  anything,  better  than  this.” 

I turned,  and  beheld  my  good  old  uncle,  Sir  Guy,  who  was 
standing  beside  Lady  Callonby.  While  I welcomed  my  worthy 
relative,  I could  not  help  casting  a glance  around  to  see  if  Guy 
were  also  there,  and  not  perceiving  him,  my  heart  beat  freely 
again. 

My  uncle,  it  appeared,  had  just  arrived,  and  lost  no  time  in 
joining  us  at  the  gallery.  His  manner  to  me  was  cordial  to  a 
degree  ; and  I perceived  that,  immediately  upon  being  introduced 
to  Lady  Jane,  he  took  considerable  pains  to  observe  her,  and 
paid  her  the  most  marked  attention. 

The  first  moment  I could  steal  unnoticed,  I took  the  oppor- 
tunity of  asking  if  Guy  were  come.  That  one  fact  was  to 
me  all,  and  upon  the  answer  to  my  question  I hung  with  deep 
anxiety. 

“ Guy  here  ! — no,  not  yet.  The  fact  is,  Harry,  my  boy,  Guy 
has  not  got  on  here  as  well  as  I could  have  wished.  Everything 
had  been  arranged  among  us  ; Callonby  behaved  most  hand- 
somely ; and,  as  far  as  regarded  myself,  I threw  no  impediment 
in  the  way.  But  still,  I don’t  know  how  it  was,  but  Guy  did  not 
advance,  and  the  matter  now ” 


A DISCOVERY. 


413 

“ Pray,  how  does  it  stand?  Have  you  any  hopes  to  put  all  to 
rights  again  ? ” 

“ Yes,  Harry,  I think,  with  your  assistance,  much  may  be  done.” 

“Oh,  count  upon  me,  by  all  means,”  said  I with  a sneering 
bitterness  that  my  uncle  could  not  have  escaped  remarking,  had 
his  attention  not  been  drawn  off  by  Lady  Callonby. 

“ What  have  I done — what  sin  did  I meditate  before  I was 
born,  that  I should  come  into  the  world  branded  with  failure 
in  all  I attempt  ? Is  it  not  enough  that  my  cousin,  my  elder 
by  some  months,  should  be  rich  while  I am  poor ; honored 
and  titled,  while  I am  unknown  and  unnoticed ; but  is  he 
also  to  be  preferred  to  me  in  every  station  in  life?  Is  there 
no  feeling  of  the  heart  so  sacred  that  it  must  not  succumb  to 
primogeniture  ? ” 

“ What  a dear  old  man  Sir  Guy  is ! ” said  Catherine,  inter- 
rupting my  sad  reflections,  “and  how  gallant ! he  is  absolutely 
flirting  with  Lady  Jane.” 

And  quite  true  it  was.  The  old  gentleman  was  paying  his 
devoirs  with  a studied  anxiety  to  please,  that  went  to  my 
very  heart  as  I witnessed  it.  The  remainder  of  that  day  to 
me  was  a painful  and  suffering  one.  My  intention  of  suddenly 
leaving  Munich  had  been  abandoned  ; why,  I knew  not.  I felt 
that  I was  hoping  against  hope,  and  that  my  stay  was  only  to 
confirm,  by  the  most  “ damning  proof,”  how  surely  I was  fated 
to  disappointment.  My  reasonings  all  ended  in  one  point.  “ If 
she  really  love  Guy,  then  my  present  attentions  can  only  be  a 
source  of  unhappiness  to  her ; if  she  do  not,  is  there  any  pros- 
pect that,  from  the  bare  fact  of  my  attachment,  so  proud  a 
family  as  the  Callonbys  will  suffer  their  daughter  to  make  a mere 
love-match  ? ” 

There  was  but  one  answer  to  this  question,  and  I had  at  last  the 
courage  to  make  it : and  yet  the  Callonbys  had  marked  me  out  for 
their  attentions,  and  had  gone  unusually  out  of  their  way  to  inflict 
injury  upon  me,  if  all  were  meant  to  end  in  nothing.  “ If  I 
only  could  bring  myself  to  think  that  this  was  a systematic 
game  adopted  by  them,  to  lead  to  the  subsequent  arrangement 
with  my  cousin  ! — if  I could  but  satisfy  my  doubts  on  this 

head ” What  threats  of  vengeance  I muttered,  I cannot 

remember,  for  I was  summoned  at  that  critical  moment  to  attend 
the  party  to  the  palace. 

The  state  of  excitement  I was  in  was  an  ill  preparative  for 
the  rigid  etiquette  of  a Court  dinner.  All  passed  off,  however, 
happily ; and  the  King,  by  a most  good-natured  allusion  to  the 
blunder  of  the  night  before,  set  me  perfectly  at  ease  on  that 
head. 


4*4 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


I was  placed  next  to  Lady  Jane  at  dinner;  and  half  from 
wounded  pride,  half  from  the  momentarily  increasing  conviction 
that  all  was  lost,  chatted  away  gayly,  without  any  evidence  of  a 
stronger  feeling  than  the  mere  vicinity  of  a pretty  person  is 
sure  to  inspire.  What  success  this  game  was  attended  with,  I 
know  not ; but  the  suffering  it  cost  me,  I shall  never  cease  to 
remember.  One  satisfaction  I certainly  did  experience — she 
was  manifestly  piqued,  and  several  times  turned  towards  the 
person  on  the  other  side  of  her,  to  avoid  the  tone  of  indifference 
in  which  I discussed  matters  that  were  actually  wringing  my  own 
heart  at  the  moment.  Yet  such  was  the  bitterness  of  my  spirit, 
that  I set  down  this  conduct  on  her  part  as  coquetry;  and  quite 
convinced  myself  that  any  slight  encouragement  she  might  ever 
have  given  my  attentions  was  only  meant  to  indulge  a spirit  of 
vanity,  by  adding  another  to  the  list  of  her  conquests. 

As  the  feeling  grew  upon  me,  I suppose  my  manner  to  her 
became  more  palpably  cutting,  for  it  ended  at  last  in  our  dis- 
continuing to  speak ; and  when  we  retired  from  the  palace,  I 
accompanied  her  to  the  carriage  in  silence,  and  wished  her  a 
cold  and  distant  good-night,  without  any  advance  to  touch  her 
hand  at  parting — and  yet  that  parting  I had  destined  for  our  last. 

The  greater  part  of  that  night  I spent  in  writing  letters.  One 
was  to  Jane  herself,  owning  my  affections,  confessing  that  even 
the  rudeness  of  my  late  conduct  was  the  fruit  of  it,  and  finally 
assuring  her  that  failing  to  win  from  her  any  return  of  my  pas- 
sion, I had  resolved  never  to  meet  her  more.  I also  wrote  a 
short  note  to  my  uncle,  thanking  him  for  all  he  had  formerly 
done  in  my  behalf,  but  coldly  declining  for  the  future  any  as- 
sistance upon  his  part,  resolving  that  upon  my  own  efforts  alone 
should  I now  rest  my  fortunes.  To  Lord  Callonby  I wrote  at 
greater  length,  recapitulating  the  history  of  our  early  intimacy, 
and  accusing  him  of  encouraging  me  in  expectations,  which,  as 
he  never  intended  to  confirm  them,  were  fated  to  prove  my  ruin. 
More — much  more — I said,  which  to  avow,  I should  gladly  shrink 
from,  were  it  not  that  I have  pledged  myself  to  honesty  in  these 
“ Confessions/’  and  as  they  depict  the  bitterness  and  misery  of 
my  spirit,  I must  plead  guilty  to  them  here.  In  a word,  I felt 
myself  injured.  I saw  no  outlet  for  redress,  and  the  only  con- 
solation open  to  my  wounded  pride  and  crushed  affection,  was 
to  show,  that  if  I felt  myself  a victim,  at  least  I was  not  a dupe. 
I set  about  packing  up  for  the  journey — whither,  I knew  not. 
My  leave  was  nearly  expired,  yet  I could  not  bear  the  thought 
of  rejoining  the  regiment.  My  only  desire  was  to  leave  Mu- 
nich and  that  speedily.  When  all  my  arrangements  were  com- 
pleted, I went  down  noiselessly  to  the  inn  yard  to  order  post-horses 


A DISCOVERY. 


415 


by  daybreak  ; there  to  my  surprise  I found  all  activity  and  bustle. 
Though  so  late  at  night,  a courier  had  arrived  from  England  for 
Lord  Callonby,  with  some  important  despatches  from  the  Gov- 
ernment. This  would,  at  any  other  time,  have  interested  me 
deeply ; now  I heard  the  news  without  a particle  of  feeling,  and 
I made  all  the  necessary  dispositions  for  my  journey,  without 
paying  the  slightest  attention  to  what  was  going  on  about  me. 
I had  just  finished,  when  Lord  Callonby’s  valet  came  to  say  that 
his  lordship  wished  to  see  me  immediately  in  his  dressing-room. 
Though  I would  gladly  have  declined  any  further  interview,  I 
saw  no  means  of  escape,  and  followed  the  servant  to  his  lord- 
ship's room. 

There  I found  Lord  Callonby  in  his  dressing-gown  and  night- 
cap, surrounded  by  papers,  letters,  despatch-boxes,  and  red 
tape-tied  parcles,  that  all  bespoke  business. 

“ Lorrequer,  sit  down,  my  boy ; I have  much  to  say  to  you, 
and  as  we  have  no  time  to  lose,  you  must  forego  a little  sleep. 
Is  the  door  closed  ? I have  just  received  most  important  news 
from  England  ; and  to  begin."  Here  his  lordship  opened  a let- 
ter and  read  as  follows  : — 

“ My  dear  Lord, — They  are  out  at  last — the  majority  on  Fri- 
day increased  to  forty  yesterday  evening,  when  they  resigned ; 
the  Duke  has  meanwhile  assumed  the  reins  till  further  arrange- 
ments can  be  perfected,  and  despatches  are  now  preparing  to 
bring  all  our  friends  about  us.  The  only  rumors  as  yet  are, 

L , for  the  Colonies,  H , to  the  Foreign  Office,  W , 

President  of  the  Council,  and  we  anxiously  hope,  yourself,  Vice- 
roy in  Ireland.  In  any  case  lose  no  time  in  coming  back  to 
England.  The  struggle  will  be  a sharp  one,  as  the  outs  are 
distracted,  and  we  shall  want  you  much.  Ever  yours,  my  dear 
lord, 

“ Henry ” 

“This  is  much  sooner  than  I looked  for,  Lorrequer,  perhaps 
almost  than  I wished;  but  as  it  has  taken  place,  we  must  not 
decline  the  battle  ; now  what  I wanted  with  you  is  this — if  I go 
to  Ireland,  I should  like  your  acceptance  of  the  Private  Secre- 
tary's Office.  Come,  come,  no  objections  ; you  know  that  you 
need  not  leave  the  army ; you  can  become  unattached ; I'll 
arrange  all  that ; a propos , this  concerns  you ; it  is  from  the 
Horse  Guards  ; you  need  not  read  it  now  though ; it  is  merely 
your  gazette  to  the  company ; your  promotion,  however,  shall 
not  stop  there.  However,  the  important  thing  I want  with  you 
is  this : I wish  you  to  start  for  England  to-morrow ; circum- 


416 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


stances  prevent  my  going  from  this  for  a few  days.  You  can 

see  L and  W , etc.,  and  explain  all  I have  to  say;  I 

shall  write  a few  letters,  and  some  hints  for  your  own  guidance ; 
and  as  Kilkee  never  would  have  head  for  these  matters,  I look 
to  your  friendship  to  do  it  for  me.” 

Looking  only  to  the  past,  as  the  proposal  suited  my  already- 
made  resolve  to  quit  Munich,  I acceded  at  once,  and  assured 
Lord  Callonby  that  I should  be  ready  in  an  hour. 

“ Quite  right,  Lorrequer,  but  still  I shall  not  need  this;  you 
cannot  leave  before  eleven  or  twelve  o’clock;  in  fact,  I have 
another  service  to  exact  at  your  hands  before  we  part  with  you ; 
meanwhile,  try  and  get  some  sleep ; you  are  not  likely  to  know 
anything  of  a bed  before  you  reach  Clarendon.”  So  saying,  he 
hurried  me  from  the  room,  and  as  he  closed  the  door,  I heard 
him  muttering  his  satisfaction,  that  already  so  far,  all  had  been 
well  arranged. 


CHAPTER  LVI. 

CONCLUSION. 

Sleep  came  on  me,  without  my  feeling  it,  and  amid  all  the  dis- 
tracting cares  and  pressing  thoughts  that  embarrassed  me,  I only 
awoke  when  the  roll  of  the  caleche  sounded  beneath  my  window, 
and  warned  me  that  I must  be  stirring  and  ready  for  the  road. 

“ Since  it  is  to  be  thus,”  thought  I,  “ it  is  much  better  that 
this  opportunity  should  occur  of  my  getting  away  at  once,  and 
thus  obviate  the  unpleasantness  of  any  future  meeting  with 
Lady  Jane,  and  the  thousand  conjectures  that  my  departure,  so 
sudden  and  unannounced,  might  give  rise  to.  So  be  it,  and  I 
have  now  only  one  hope  more — that  the  terms  we  last  parted 
on  may  prevent  her  appearing  at  the  breakfast-table.”  With 
these  words  I entered  the  room,  where  the  Callonbys  were  assem- 
bled. 

“This  is  too  provoking,  really,  Mr  Lorrequer,”  said  Lady 
Callonby,  with  her  sweetest  smile,  and  most  civil  manner; 
“ quite  too  bad  to  lose  you  now  that  you  have  just  joined  us.” 

“ Come,  no  tampering  with  our  party,”  said  Lord  Callonby ; 
“my  friend  here  must  not  be  seduced  by  honeyed  words  and 
soft  speeches  from  the  high  road  that  leads  to  honors  and  dis- 
tinctions. Now  for  your  instructions.”  Here  his  lordship  en- 
tered into  a very  deep  discussion  as  to  the  conditions  upon 
which  his  support  might  be  expected  and  relied  upon,  which  Kil- 
kee from  time  to  time  interrupted  by  certain  quizzing  allusions  t» 


CONCLUSION. 


417 


the  low  price  he  put  upon  his  services,  and  suggested  that  a 
mission  for  myself  should  certainly  enter  into  the  compact. 

At  length  breakfast  was  over,  and  Lord  Callonby  said,  “ Now 
make  your  adieux,  and  let  me  see  you  for  a moment  in  Sir  Guy’s 
room ; we  have  a little  discussion  there,  in  which  your  assist- 
ance is  wanting.”  I accordingly  took  my  farewell  of  Lady  Cal- 
lonby, and  approached  to  do  so  to  Lady  Jane;  but  much  to  my 
surprise,  she  made  me  a very  distant  salute,  and  said  in  her 
coldest  tone,  “ I hope  you  may  have  a pleasant  journey.”  Be- 
fore I had  recovered  my  surprise  at  this  movement,  Kilkee 
came  forward  and  offered  to  accompany  me  a few  miles  of  the 
road.  I accepted  readily  the  kind  offer,  and  once  more  bowing 
to  the  ladies,  withdrew.  “ And  thus  it  is,”  thought  I,  “that  I 
leave  all  my  long-dreamed-of  happiness,  and  such  is  the  end  of 
many  a long  day’s  ardent  expectation.”  When  I entered  my 
uncle’s  room,  my  temper  was  certainly  not  in  the  mood  most 
fit  for  further  trials,  though  it  was  doomed  to  meet  them. 

“ Harry,  my  boy,  we  are  in  a great  want  of  you  here,  and,  as 
time  presses,  we  must  state  our  case  very  briefly.  You  are 
aware,  Sir  Guy  tells  me,  that  your  cousin  Guy  has  been  received 
among  us  as  the  suitor  of  my  eldest  daughter.  It  has  been  an 
old  compact  between  us  to  unite  our  families  by  ties  still 
stronger  than  our  very  ancient  friendship,  and  this  match  has 
been  accordingly  looked  to  by  us  both  with  much  anxiety. 
Now,  although  on  our  parts  I think  no  obstacle  intervenes,  yet 
I am  sorry  to  say  there  appears  difficulties  in  other  quarters. 
In  fact,  certain  stories  have  reached  Lady  Jane’s  ears  concern- 
ing your  cousin,  which  have  greatly  prejudiced  her  against  him, 
and  we  have  reason  to  think  most  unfairly;  for  we  have  suc- 
ceeding in  tracing  some  of  the  offences  in  question,  not  to 
Guy,  but  to  a Mr.  Morewood,  who  it  seems  has  personated  your 
cousin  upon  more  than  one  occasion,  and  not  a little  to  his  dis- 
advantage. Now  we  wish  you  to  sift  these  matters  to  the 
bottom,  by  your  going  to  Paris  as  soon  as  you  can  venture  to 
leave  London — find  out  this  man,  and,  if  possible,  make  all 
straight ; if  money  is  wanting,  he  must  of  course  have  it ; but 
bear  one  thing  in  mind,  that  any  possible  step  which  may 
remove  this  unhappy  impression  from  my  daughter’s  mind,  will 
be  of  infinite  service,  and  never  forgotten  by  us.  Kilkee,  too; 
has  taken  some  dislike  to  Guy.  You  have  only,  however,  to 
talk  to  him  on  the  matter,  and  he  is  sure  to  pay  attention  to 
you.” 

“And,  Harry,”  said  my  uncle,  “tell  Guy  I am  much  dis- 
pleased that  he  is  not  here;  I expected  him  to  leave  Paris  with 
me,  bilt  some  absurd  wager  at  the  Jockey  Club  detained  him.” 
2; 


418 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


“ Another  thing,  Harry,  you  may  as  well  mention  to  your 
cousin,  that  Sir  Guy  has  complied  with  every  suggestion  that  he 
formerly  threw  out — he  will  understand  the  allusion.” 

“Oh,  yes,”  said  my  uncle;  “tell  him  roundly,  he  shall  have 
Elton  Hall;  I have  fitted  up  Marsden  for  myself;  so  no  diffi- 
culty lies  in  that  quarter.” 

“ You  may  add,  if  you  like,  that  my  present  position  with  the 
Government,  enables  me  to  offer  him  a speedy  prospect  of  a 
regiment,  and  that  I think  he  had  better  not  leave  the  army.” 

“And  say  that  by  next  post  Hamercloth’s  bond  for  the  six 
thousand  shall  be  paid  off,  and  let  him  send  me  a note  of  any 
other  large  sum  he  owes.” 

“ And  above  all  things,  no  more  delays.  I must  leave  this 
for  England  inevitably,  and  as  the  ladies  will  probably  prefer 
wintering  in  Italy ” 

“Oh,  certainly,”  said  my  uncle,  “ the  wedding  must  take 
place  at  once.” 

“I  scarcely  can  ask  you  to  come  to  us  on  the  occasion, 
though  I need  not  say  how  greatly  we  should  all  feel  gratified 
if  you  could  do  so,”  said  my  lord. 

While  this  cross  fire  went  on  from  both  sides,  I looked  from 
one  to  the  other  of  the  speakers.  My  first  impression  being, 
that  having  perceived  and  disliked  my  attention  to  Lady  Jane, 
they  adopted  this  mauvaise  plaisanterie  as  a kind  of  smart  lesson 
for  my  future  guidance.  My  next  impression  was  that  they 
were  really  in  earnest,  but  about  the  very  stupidest  pair  of  old 
gentlemen  that  ever  wore  hair  powder. 

“And  this  is  all?”  said  I,  drawing  a long  breath,  and  in- 
wardly uttering  a short  prayer  for  patience. 

“ Why,  I believe  I have  mentioned  everything,”  said  Lord 
Callonby,  “ except  that  if  anything  occurs  to  yourself  that  offers 
a prospect  of  forwarding  this  affair,  we  leave  you  a carte  blanche 
to  adopt  it.” 

“ Of  course,  then,”  said  I,  “ I am  to  understand  that  as  no 
other  difficulties  lie  in  the  way  than  those  your  lordship  has 
mentioned,  the  feelings  of  the  parties — their  affections  are  mu- 
tual ? ” 

“ Oh,  of  course ; your  cousin,  I suppose,  has  made  himself 
agreeable  ; he  is  a good-looking  fellow,  and,  in  fact,  I am  not 
aware  why  they  should  not  like  each  other,  eh,  Sir  Guy?  ” 

“ To  be  sure  ; and  the  Elton  estates  run  half  the  shire  with 
your  Gloucestershire  property ; never  was  there  a more  suitable 
match.” 

“Then  only  one  point  remains,  and  that  being  complied  with, 
you  may  reckon  upon  my  services  ; nay,  more,  I promise  you  su^ 


CONCLUSION. 


419 


cess.  Lady  Jane’s  own  consent  must  be  previously  assured  to 
me  ; without  this,  I most  positively  decline  moving  a step  in 
the  matter ; that  once  obtained,  freely  and  without  constraint, 
I pledge  myself  to  do  all  you  require.” 

“ Quite  fair,  Harry,  I perfectly  approve  of  your  scruples.”  So 
saying,  his  lordship  rose,  and  left  the  room. 

“Well,  Harry,  and  yourself,  what  is  to  be  done  for  you  ? — has 
Callonby  offered  you  anything  yet  ? ” 

“ Yes,  sir,  his  lordship  has  most  kindly  offered  me  the  under 
secretaryship  in  Ireland,  but  I have  resolved  on  declining  it, 
though  I shall  not  at  present  say  so,  lest  he  should  feel  any 
delicacy  in  employing  me  upon  the  present  occasion.” 

“Why,  is  the  boy  deranged? — decline  it! — what  have  you 
got  in  the  world,  that  you  should  refuse  such  an  appointment  ? ” 
The  color  mounted  to  my  cheeks,  my  temples  burned,  and 
what  I should  have  replied  to  this  taunt,  I know  not,  for  pas- 
sion had  completely  mastered  me.  When  Lord  Callonby  again 
entered  the  room,  his  usually  calm  and  pale  face  was  agitated 
and  flushed,  and  his  manner  tremulous  and  hurried ; for  an 
instant  he  was  silent ; then  turning  towards  my  uncle,  he  took 
his  hand  affectionately,  and  said, — 

“ My  good  old  friend,  I am  deeply,  deeply  grieved ; but  we 
must  abandon  this  scheme.  I have  just  seen  my  daughter,  and 
from  the  few  words  which  we  have  had  together,  I find  that  her 
dislike  to  the  match  is  invincible,  and,  in  fact,  she  has  obtained 
my  promise  never  again  to  allude  to  it.  If  I were  willing  to 
constrain  the  feelings  of  my  child,  you  yourself  would  not  per- 
mit it.  So  here  let  us  forget  that  we  ever  hoped  for,  ever  calcu- 
lated on  a plan  in  which  both  our  hearts  were  so  deeply  inter- 
ested.” 

Those  words,  few  as  they  were,  were  spoken  with  deep  feeling, 
and  for  the  first  time  I looked  upon  the  speaker  with  sincere 
regard.  They  were  both  silent  for  some  minutes  ; Sir  Guy, 
who  was  himself  much  agitated,  spoke  first. 

“ So  be  it  then,  Callonby,  and  thus  do  I relinquish  one — per- 
haps the  only  cheering  prospect  my  advanced  age  held  out  to 
me.  I have  long  wished  to  have  your  daughter  for  my  niece, 
and  since  I have  known  her,  the  wish  has  increased  tenfold.” 

“ It  was  the  chosen  dream  of  all  my  anticipations,”  said  Lord 

Callonby,  “and  now  Jane’s  affections  only but  let  it  pass.” 

“ And  is  there  then  really  no  remedy  ? — can  nothing  be 
thought  of  ? ” 

“ Nothing.” 

“ I am  not  quite  so  sure,  my  lord,”  said  I,  tremulously. 

“ No,  no,  Lorrequer ; you  are  a ready-witted  fellow,  I know. 


420 


HA  RR  Y L OR  RE  Q UER. 


but  this  passes  even  your  ingenuity ; besides,  1 have  given  her 
my  word.” 

“ Even  so.” 

“ Why,  what  do  you  mean  ? speak  out,  man,”  said  Sir  Guy. 
“ I'll  give  you  ten  thousand  pounds  on  the  spot  if  you  suggest  a 
means  of  overcoming  this  difficulty.” 

“ Perhaps  you  might  not  accede  afterwards.” 

“ I pledge  myself  to  it.” 

“ And  I too,”  said  Lord  Callonby,  “if  no  unfair  stratagem  be 
resorted  to  towards  my  daughter.  If  she  only  give  her  free  and 
willing  consent,  I agree.” 

“ Then  you  must  bid  higher,  uncle  ; ten  thousand  won't  do, 
for  the  bargain  is  well  worth  the  money.” 

“ Name  your  price,  boy,  and  keep  your  word.” 

“Agreed,  then.  Holding  my  uncle  to  his  promise,  I pledge 
myself  that  his  nephew  shall  be  the  husband  of  Lady  Jane  Cal- 
lonby. And  now,  my  lord,  write  Harry  vice  Guy  in  the  contract, 
and  I am  certain  my  uncle  is  too  faithful  to  his  plighted  word, 
and  too  true  to  his  promise,  not  to  say  it  shall  be.” 

The  suddenness  of  this  rash  declaration  absolutely  stunned 
them  both,  and  then  recovering  at  the  same  moment,  their  eyes 
met. 

“Fairly  caught,  Guy,”  said  Lord  Callonby ; “a  bold  strike,  if 
it  only  succeed.” 

“ And  it  shall,  by  G ,”  said  my  uncle  ; “ Elton  is  yours, 

Harry,  and  with  seven  thousand  a year,  and  my  nephew  to  boot, 
Callonby  won’t  refuse  you.” 

There  are  moments  in  life  in  which  conviction  will  follow  a 
bold  coup  de  main  that  never  would  have  ensued  from  the  slow 
process  of  reasoning.  Luckily  for  me,  this  was  one  of  those 
happy  intervals.  Lord  Callonby,  catching  my  uncle’s  enthu- 
siasm, seized  me  by  the  hand,  and  said, — 

“With  her  consent,  Lorrequer,  you  may  count  upon  mine  ; and 
faith,  if  truth  must  be  told,  I always  preferred  you  to  the 
other.” 

What  my  uncle  added,  I waited  not  to  listen  to,  but  with  one 
bound  sprung  from  the  room — dashed  up  stairs  to  Lady  Cal- 
lonby’s  drawing-room — looked  rapidly  around  to  see  if  she  was 
there,  and  then,  without  paying  the  slightest  attention  to  the 
questions  of  Lady  Callonby  and  her  youngest  daughter,  was  turn- 
ing to  leave  the  room,  when  my  eye  caught  the  flutter  of  a cash- 
mere  shawl  in  the  garden  beneath.  In  an  instant  the  window 
was  torn  open — I stood  upon  the  sill,  and,  though  the  fall  was 
some  twenty  feet,  with  one  spring  I took  it,  and  before  the  ladies 
had  recovered  from  their  first  surprise  at  my  unaccountable  con- 


CONCLUSION. 


421 


duct,  put  the  finishing  stroke  to  their  amazement,  by  throwing  my 
arms  around  Lady  Jane,  and  clasping  her  tt>  my  heart. 

I cannot  remember  by  what  process  I explained  the  change 
that  had  taken  place  in  my  fortunes.  I had  some  very  vague 
recollection  of  vows  of  eternal  love  mingled  with  praises  of  my 
worthy  uncle,  and  the  state  of  my  affections  and  finances  were 
jumbled  up  together,  but  still  sufficiently  intelligible  to  satisfy 
my  beloved  Jane  that  this  time,  at  least,  I made  love  with  some- 
thing more  than  my  own  consent  to  support  me.  Before  we  had 
walked  half  round  the  garden  she  had  promised  to  be  mine  ; and 
Harry  Lorrequer,  who  rose  that  morning  with  nothing  but  de- 
spair and  darkness  before  him,  was  now  the  happiest  of  men. 

Dear  reader,  I have  little  more  to  confess.  Lord  Callonby’s 
politics  were  fortunately  deemed  of  more  moment  than  maidenly 
scruples,  and  the  treasury  benches  more  respected  than  the 
trousseau.  Our  wedding  day  was  therefore  settled  for  the  follow- 
ing week.  Meanwhile  every  day  seemed  to  teem  with  its  own 
meed  of  good  fortune.  My  good  uncle,  under  whose  patronage, 
forty  odd  years  before,  Colonel  Kamworth  had  obtained  his  com- 
mission, undertook  to  effect  the  reconciliation  between  him 
and  the  Wallers,  who  now  only  waited  for  our  wedding  before 
they  set  out  for  Hydrabad  cottage,  that  snug  receptacle  of  curry 
and  Madeira,  Jack  confessing  that  he  had  rather  listen  to  the 
siege  of  Java  by  that  fireside,  than  hear  an  account  of  Waterloo 
from  the  lips  of  the  great  Duke  himself. 

I wrote  to  Trevanion  to  invite  him  over  to  Munich  for  the 
ceremony,  and  the  same  post  which  informed  me  that  he  was 
m route  to  join  us,  brought  also  a letter  from  my  eccentric 
friend  O’Leary,  whose  name  having  so  often  occurred  in  these 
Confessions,  I am  tempted  to  read  aloud ; the  more  so  as  its 
contents  are  no  secret,  Kilkee  having  insisted  upon  reading  it 
to  a committee  of  the  whole  family  assembled  after  dinner. 

“ Dear  Lorrequer, — The  trial  is  over,  and  I am  acquitted,  but 
still  in  Sainte  Pelagie ; for  as  the  government  were  determined 
to  cut  my  head  off,  if  guilty,  so  the  mob  resolved  to  murder  me, 
if  innocent.  A pleasant  situation  this.  Before  the  trial,  I was 
the  most  popular  man  in  Paris ; my  face  was  in  every  print-shop  ; 
plaster  busts  of  me,  with  a great  organ  behind  the  ear,  in  all 
the  thoroughfares  ; my  autograph  selling  at  six-and-twenty  sous, 
and  a lock  of  my  hair  at  five  francs.  Now  that  it  is  proved  I did 
not  murder  the  4 minister  at  war  ’ (who  is  in  excellent  health  and 
spirits),  the  popular  feeling  against  me  is  very  violent,  and  I am 
looked  upon  as  an  impostor,  who  had  obtained  his  notoriety  under 
false  pretences.  Vernet,  who  had  begun  my  picture  for  a Judas, 


422 


HARRY  LORRE Q UE R. 


lias  left  off  in  disgust.  Your  friend  Trevanion  is  a trump ; he 
procured  a Tipperary  gentleman  to  run  away  with  Mrs.  Ram, 
and  they  were  married  at  Frankfort  on  Tuesday  last.  By  the 
bye,  what  an  escape  you  had  of  Emily : she  was  only  quizzing 
you  all  the  time.  She  is  engaged  to  be  married  to  Tom  O’Fla- 
herty, who  is  here  now.  Emily’s  imitation  of  you,  with  the  hat 
a little  on  one  side,  and  a handkerchief  flourishing  away  in  one 
hand,  is  capital ; but  when  she  kneels  down  and  says,  4 Dearest 
Emily,’  etc.,  you’d  swear  it  was  yourself. — [Here  the  laughter  of 
the  auditory  prevented  Kilkee  proceeding,  who,  to  my  utter  con- 
fusion, resumed  after  a little.] — Don’t  be  losing  your  time  mak- 
ing up  to  Lord  Callonby’s  daughter — [here  came  another  burst 
of  laughter] — they  say  here  you  have  not  a chance,  and,  more- 
over, she’s  a downright  flirt. — [4  It  is  your  turn  now,  Jane,’  said 
Kilkee,  scarcely  able  to  proceed.] — Besides  that,  her  father’s  a 
pompous  old  Tory,  that  won’t  give  a sixpence  with  her;  and  the 
old  curmudgeon,  your  uncle,  has  as  much  idea  of  providing  for 
you  as  he  has  of  dying. — [This  last  sally  absolutely  convulsed 
all  parties.] — To  be  sure,  Kilkee’s  a fool,  but  he  is  no  use  to 
you. — [4  Begad,  I thought  I was  going  to  escape,’  said  the  indi- 
vidual alluded  to,  4 but  your  friend  O’Leary  cuts  on  every  side 
of  him.’]  ” The  letter,  after  some  very  grave  reflections  upon 
the  hopelessness  of  my  pursuit,  concluded  with  a kind  pledge  to 
meet  me  soon  and  become  my  travelling  companion.  44  Mean- 
while,” added  he,  44  I must  cross  over  to  London,  and  look  after 
my  new  work,  which  is  to  come  out  soon  under  the  title  of  4 The 
Loiterings  of  Arthur  O’Leary.’  ” 

This  elegant  epistle  formed  the  subject  of  much  laughter  and 
conversation  amongst  us  long  after  it  was  concluded,  and  little 
triumph  could  be  claimed  by  any  party,  where  nearly  all  were  so 
roughly  handled.  So  passed  the  last  evening  I spent  in  Munich. 
The  next  morning  I was  married. 


THE  END. 


